A Friend Named Voldemort
by DuShuZhi
Summary: The Dark Lord would not bow to prophecy. He lifted the green-eyed babe and apparated away. Destiny was shattered, fate was altered, and the future changed. Eventual Slash.
1. Chapter 1

The Great Hall was filled with the chatter of students and the clinking of silverware. Voldemort sighed as he looked down at them all from his place at the head table. His eyes scanned the Slytherin side of the room until he found one Slytherin in particular. Bright green eyes met crimson and the child offered a small wave in greeting. Voldemort merely nodded, his cold, stern expression remaining fixed. Harry knew that Voldemort had noticed him and it brought a smile to his pale, young face.

Voldemort sighed again and Snape, the current Headmaster, looked at him with concern. "Is the food not to your satisfaction My Lord?"

"The meal is superb as usual, Severus," he replied in a bored tone. "I need to speak to you later about a matter of some importance."

Severus offered him a firm nod. "I will be in my office all evening."

Voldemort looked back at his young charge and noticed that Harry had barely eaten anything on his plate. Instead the boy was pushing the food with his fork while staring off into space. Voldemort sighed again, realizing what must be done.

He had known when he decided to send Harry to Hogwarts that it would be difficult for the child. Harry had never had much interaction with others, only his nanny, Miss Fallow, and Voldemort, but the Dark Lord had hoped that Hogwarts would be a good experience. He'd hoped that the boy would make friends and come to love the school as Voldemort had loved it, but that had not happened.

The other eleven-year olds were below Harry in terms of magical power and intelligence, so he was always ahead of them in classes. Many of the children were jealous of that fact. There were also some that were downright afraid of the boy due to his connection to the Dark Lord. Still others looked to pander to Harry every chance they could get, not trying to be his friend, only trying to get themselves into the Dark Lord's good graces.

Voldemort sneered under his breath. He never should have allowed Harry to come here. The boy didn't truly need any friends besides the Dark Lord and a sharp pang of jealousy shot through Voldemort's heart at the thought of Harry leaving him for another. He shook his head. Harry would never leave him and Harry needed to have friends, they would be important in his development. He tapped out a rhythm with his fingers as he lost himself in his own thoughts. Perhaps Severus would come up with some kind of solution.

After dinner had finished, the Dark Lord followed Severus to his office. The place hadn't changed much through the years. Many of Dumbledore's old toys had been packed away after the old man was killed. It had happened exactly a year after he'd taken Harry. Speaking of Dumbledore.

"Albus, my old friend," Voldemort greeted the portrait of the former Headmaster, "Any gossip to share with me?"

Twinkling blue eyes looked at him much the same way they had when he had been a student. "Gossip Tom, you should know I don't put much worth in gossip. But you should perhaps know that Mr. Malfoy has been acting very friendly toward your young charge," his eyes lost their twinkle. "Perhaps a bit too friendly.

Voldemort's jaw clenched instinctively. He should have known considering the way the boy's father acted, the whore. The blonde was always trying to seduce those in power; he should have known that the man's son would be the same way.

"Would you like me to speak to young Draco?" Severus suggested.

Good ol' Severus, always attempting to protect that stupid little brat. Personally, Voldemort thought the man took his Godfather duties a bit too seriously.

"That will not be necessary," Voldemort stated commandingly. "I will be pulling Harry out of Hogwarts and hiring tutors to teach any subjects he may need education in, which will most likely be very few."

"My Lord, he's only been here four months, I'm sure he merely needs time to adjust."

Voldemort shook his head. "Harry is too advanced and his life has been too different from the other children. Add to that his relationship to me and I'm afraid it is quite impossible for him to relate to others his age. I partially blame myself for this, but I'm not sorry for it. He's a very bright boy and I'm sure he'll do fine with private tutors. Of course I still have much to teach him as well."

"But a child needs friends," Dumbledore interjected.

"He has me," Voldemort hissed. "He needs no one else."

Severus frowned. "I'm afraid, with all due respect My Lord, I have to agree with Albus. Children do need to socialize with other children."

"And who should Harry socialize with?" Voldemort questioned sarcastically. "The little whore Malfoy, the students who are afraid to get near him or those that hate him for his abilities?" He sighed, feeling his anger recede, it really wasn't getting him anywhere. "I will be taking Harry home, but I wish for you to locate students to come and visit. They must be intelligent, trustworthy and open-minded. As much as it pains me, I suggest investigating Gryffindor as I doubt you'll find someone with those qualities in Slytherin."

The Headmaster's brow rose dramatically. "You wish for me to pick out friends for Mr. Potter?"

Voldemort shook his head. "No, even I know that friendship cannot be forced, Harry would see right through it. I merely wish for you to find students that would have the best chance at forging a true friendship with the boy."

Severus tilted his head to one side. "I will see what I can do."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed darkly. "See that you do Snape. I do not deal well with disappointment."

A shiver ran up Snape's spine as the Dark Lord glided from the room. Voldemort's lips twitched slightly as he sensed the man's immediate discomfort. Good, he hissed mentally, better that Snape not forget his place.

Things were much easier, he remembered; back when Harry was a tiny child with tiny hopes and dreams. It was so easy to please him then. An ice cream after dinner and a story before bed, and the boy was as happy as a Hippogriff. Now things were becoming more complicated, even the way he interacted with the boy was growing more complicated.

What is Harry? A son, a protégé, a friend, a safeguard…a lover? No, he shook his head; there was no reason to think about such things now. At the moment Harry was merely an eleven-year old boy with great power, great knowledge and a friend named Voldemort.


	2. Chapter 2

_10 years earlier_

Adrenaline pulsed through Voldemort as he pointed his wand at the green-eyed child. The boy did not cry out, not when his father had been killed, nor his mother, not even now when he was so close to death. A cool draft made its way up the Dark Lord's back and he shivered. The night was filled with the promise of great things to come. In front of him sat his natural born enemy, a creature who would have the power to destroy him, but for now it was merely a babe in swaddling clothes.

He opened his mouth to whisper the killing curse, but the chiming of the hall clock stilled his tongue. Voldemort's brow furrowed as he looked critically at the child with messy black hair. Something seemed wrong, something was off here. Slowly he lowered his wand and nervously tapped it on the side of his leg.

An unseen force was pushing him toward an uncertain end. Whether it was destiny, fate or merely some ploy of Dumbledore's, the Dark Lord didn't like it one bit. He'd always followed his own way, made his own path, taking care not to let anyone or anything influence or sway him from his goals. Was killing this child truly his goal? No, lordship over the wizarding world was his ultimate goal. He growled in frustration and stared into the child's eyes.

There was something behind those innocent bright green orbs, something lurking under the surface. This child, the one who would be his equal, did it really need to be destroyed or was there another option open to him, something that still needed to be worked out? When he'd come to the Potter's home he had been hurried and frantic, acting completely out of character. Lord Voldemort would never act without thinking, without planning, so why had he come?

Cool, calculating crimson eyes looked down upon the child. The Dark Lord would not bow to prophecy. He lifted the green-eyed babe and apparated away. Destiny was shattered, fate was altered, and the future changed.

Miss Fallow, his most trusted servant, met him at the door to his castle. Her hands were shaky and her expression tense. She'd seen the look on the Dark Lord's face when he'd left and his change in personality had frightened her greatly. Voldemort had lived so long and done so much due to his great intelligence and penchant for excessive planning. It was not like him to rush into a situation he knew nothing about.

"I was worried that something had happened to you," she admitted gravely. "When you stormed out of here…" Her voice trailed off and he felt a small pang of guilt at his actions.

"Everything went fine," he stated assuredly, stepping into the entryway and lifting one edge of his long, black cloak. Miss Fallow let out a loud gasp as she noticed the small bundle in his arms. Voldemort chuckled softly at the bright twinkle in her eyes. "I thought you might be getting lonely here in this old, dusty castle with only house elves for company."

She shook her head disbelievingly. "I live to serve you My Lord, but this," she gestured at the baby, "You did not truly take this baby for me did you, My Lord?"

Voldemort shook his head. "No," he confirmed, "I'm not quite sure why I took him. His parents are dead and will bother me no more. Perhaps I should have killed him and taken care of any future danger, but something about that doesn't seem right." She gave him a questioning look. The Dark Lord had killed children before; she wondered what had stilled his wand this time.

"Either way, the matter has been decided, if he becomes a problem later then I will take care of him then." He held the boy out to the kind looking woman. "For now, I leave him in your capable hands. I must go and I don't know when I'll be able to return. The events of tonight have landed a firm blow to Dumbledore's forces and I must take advantage of it while I can. If I was to return here, I could be followed and no one must find the child. The Light could destroy me if they were to get their hands on him."

"But what should I do with the boy?" Miss Fallow questioned, staring at the baby with a confused expression. "How shall I raise him?"

Voldemort shrugged uncaringly. "Raise him in any way you wish. I trust you will educate him to the best of your ability." His eyes hardened. "The only thing I truly require is that he is loyal to me, if I do not have that loyalty then he will have to be destroyed."

"When he's old enough to understand, should I tell him the fate of his parents? He will be curious."

The Dark Lord thought on the question for a bit, before nodding his head. "Tell him the truth, when he's old enough of course. There's no need to lie to the boy. I don't intend to lock him away forever and eventually he would find out."

Miss Fallow nodded subserviently and looked down at the sleeping babe. "May I ask his name, My Lord?"

"Harry Potter."

Just then the sleeping child opened his eyes and Miss Fallow's breath caught in her throat. The boy's eyes were a color green as she'd never seen before, like two emeralds staring up from beneath a mass of messy black hair. "Such a beautiful babe," she commented, turning toward the Dark Lord, but the man had disappeared into the night.

_One Year Later_

The Dark Lord stood in the Great Hall, surrounded by a quarter of his followers. The rest were off fighting in the castle. It was no matter. Voldemort didn't need a large force to accomplish this final goal. He took a moment to look up at the dark, star-filled ceiling. It was a beautiful night for an end to this constant battle and how fitting that it should all come to a close at Hogwarts, the place where his life had truly begun.

His eyes shifted, finding Dumbledore standing at the other end of the room. Those blue-eyes had lost their twinkle long ago, that night when the Light's last hope was seemingly destroyed. So unfortunate that Dumbledore had never learned the truth, now it would be the final blow Voldemort would use to destroy the only wizard with the power to stand against him.

"Beautiful evening, isn't it?" Voldemort asked in a jovial tone as he glided across the floor, coming to stop a few feet away from his nemesis. "And a fitting place to end this war."

"So sure of yourself Tom?"

The Dark Lord didn't allow himself to be baited by the old man's use of his original name. "Call me what you will Headmaster, it truly doesn't matter anymore. We both know that you cannot defeat me and I will not let you run, so you only have one option left, to die."

Dumbledore snarled in a way that caused even Voldemort's most powerful followers to flinch slightly. "You destroyed a child to ensure your future, is that your definition of power Tom? It sounds more like fear and weakness."

Voldemort's lips stretched into a Cheshire cat like grin, causing Dumbledore's hardened expression to fall into one of confusion. "You have always underestimated me old man, when I was a child and even today when I stand before you the most powerful wizard of our age. I've always held all the cards…even if I never chose to play them." The old wizard's brow furrowed as he attempted to deduce the Dark Lord's cryptic message.

"Perhaps I should show you exactly what I mean." With a flick of his wrist, a photograph appeared in his hand. A little black-haired boy waved happily at the person holding the camera, green eyes bright and cheerful. The Dark Lord threw the photograph and Dumbledore snatched it from the air.

It was sweet the way the expression on the old man's face mutated from one of confusion, to vague recollection, to downright shock. The blue-eyes that looked up at Voldemort were full of despair and sadness. Dumbledore knew all was lost, the Dark Lord held the only chess piece that could win the game.

Voldemort returned the photo to his hand with a snap of his fingers. "Take heart in the knowledge that Harry Potter lives and is happy. I can tell he's going to be quite the wizard someday and he will serve me well."

"Avada Kedavra," he hissed dramatically and Dumbledore didn't move an inch. Instead he accepted his fate, knowing that once he was dead, his forces would stop fighting. Voldemort sneered at the old man's weakness. A real wizard fights to the end, no matter what the end shall bring.

A cheer went up among his followers in the Great Hall, while Dumbledore's forces stared in horror at what was left of their leader. There was no doubt that the war was truly over. No other wizard could hold their own against the Dark Lord; none would even dare to try. Now it was time to assure loyalties, rebuild and carve the wizarding world into the image that he had always known it should be.

He peered down at the photograph still in his hand. The little boy continued to wave at him and he allowed his usually hard and cold visage to soften slightly. He'd made the right choice, he decided, the right choice indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

_One year later_

"Breakfast is in five minutes! Come down or I'll eat without you!"

Harry shot out of bed and raced to the big, brown wardrobe on the other side of his bedroom. He giggled at the way the thick, green carpet tickled his toes. Miss Fallow always woke him the same way, shouting about breakfast in five minutes, but Harry learned long ago that breakfast started whenever he made it to the table. That didn't mean he didn't attempt to be on time.

The small boy with the bright green eyes always did what he was told. It was important, Miss Fallow had said, that Harry follow directions because Master Voldemort expected him to follow directions and Harry surely didn't want to make Master Voldemort angry. No, Harry definitely didn't want to do that.

In little Harry's mind Voldemort sat as a god. The man was powerful, could do anything he wanted and ruled over the wizarding world in Great Britain. Eventually the man would rule the world and if Harry were good, then perhaps Voldemort would allow him to be one of his followers.

Harry wanted that more than anything. Miss Fallow told him every day that sometime soon Master Voldemort would come and he'd want to know if Harry had been following the rules and doing what he was told. Also, she'd been writing to Voldemort every month since Harry had come to live in the Master's castle and she'd tell if Harry did anything bad.

So Harry tried hard not to complain when he was told to take a bath, or eat yucky green peas, but sometimes it was hard for the three-year old. He was getting frustrated. Surely Master Voldemort had forgotten about him, surely Voldemort was never coming to see Harry. Perhaps Master was disappointed because of his height, or his messy hair, or his stupid looking round glasses that Miss Fallow said he has to wear.

"Harry, what in the world is taking you?" Miss Fallow questioned from the doorway.

Little Harry's lips quivered for a moment and his small body quaked as a wave of despair crashed into his heart. "He forgot about me. He forgot all about me and he's not ever coming."

"O child." The woman sat down and took Harry up in her arms, pressing his head against her chest. Her long brown hair hung over one shoulder braided and tied in a knot at the end. Harry fiddled with it in his tiny hands; something he started doing as a baby and had never lost the habit of. "Master Voldemort is a very busy man. He has to make sure that things are safe out in the world before he can come to visit. If there is danger, he does not want to risk bringing it here. He only wishes to keep you safe, my little sweet boy."

As if on cue, a loud tapping drew both their attentions to the window where a large hawk was sitting on the ledge. Miss Fallow recognized it immediately as being from her Master and quickly moved across the room to let the bird in, never releasing Harry from her strong arms. The hawk entered and circled the room, a large package held by its powerful claws. It dropped its cargo on the bed and was gone in a flash.

"Look Harry, you see. Master hasn't forgotten us at all."

Harry's eyes lit up. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Miss Fallow laughed, "We'll have to open it. Look here, there's a letter." She sat down on the bedspread and plucked up large crème colored envelope. "Why, it's addressed to you!" The woman exclaimed, truly surprised. The Dark Lord had never written to her young charge.

"O, read it please Miss Fallow," the small boy pleaded in a desperate tone.

She nodded and opened the envelope, carefully pulling out the small card. "_Dear Harry_," she read and was immediately interrupted.

"That's me!" Harry squealed loudly. "He knows my name."

"Of course he does," she chastised. "Now hush you." She cleared her throat and continued. "_Dear Harry, I regret to admit that I never informed Miss Fallow of your birth date. Today, July 31, is your birthday and I've sent a small something that I think you will get much enjoyment from. Master Voldemort."_ That's it, she thought, glancing at the back of the card, which was completely blank. She supposed the length didn't really matter, Harry looked completely enthralled.

"Today's my birthday Miss Fallow!" He shouted merrily. "That means we've been celebrating it on the wrong day." They'd been celebrating his birthday on the anniversary of the day he'd been brought to the castle.

"Well go on then." She gestured at the gift. "Don't you want to see your first present from our master?"

Harry nodded furiously and dug into the thick, brown wrapping paper. It didn't take long to figure out what the gift was and the nanny groaned at even the idea of it.

"It's a flying broom! A real flying broom and look, it has my name on it." He lovingly ran tiny fingers over his name etched in gold at the top of the broom handle. "He does remember me."

"Of course he does," she replied, running her own fingers over the gold 'Harry Potter'. It really was beautiful. "And apparently he hasn't forgotten me as well." Harry gave her a confused look, but she didn't notice, she was too busy thinking about how she was going to keep up with a three-year old on a broom.

**DSz**

The door to Voldemort's office opened with a bang and a young, blonde-haired woman trotted toward his desk. He held back the curse that lay on the tip of his tongue and settled on glaring at the foolish squib instead. The woman seemed to barely notice his anger and flashed him a friendly smile.

"Good Morning, My Lord!" She greeted him happily. "I've got your mail here."

"Miss Stearn," Voldemort hissed, one eye twitching in agitation. "How many times have I asked you to knock before you enter?"

"Sorry, sir," she replied sheepishly, "You didn't sound busy."

He held out a hand. "My mail."

"O yes! Here you go sir, it looks like there's a Harry letter in there too," she stated excitedly.

There, he knew it; the squib was reading his mail. He didn't know how she was doing it without magic, but he knew she had to be doing it. Voldemort always made sure to only hire squibs; he would never trust a witch or wizard to be so close to him. Better to have the enemy out in front rather than stabbing you in the back.

"And how would you know that, Miss Stearn?"

She shrugged. "Just a good guess. It comes the same time every month."

Everyone knew about Harry Potter, the Dark Lord had allowed them to know. Even going so far as to send The Daily Prophet pictures now and then, each one of a smiling little boy with big, round glasses. The public ate it up and Voldemort appeared part saint for taking in the child of two of his former enemies. No one ever mentioned that he had been the one to orphan Harry.

Voldemort looked up to see Miss Stearn fidgeting. "Is there something else?"

"O, I nearly forgot. The Longbottom's are here to finalize their adoption today. Would you like to interview them before they take the child?"

The muggle-born children of Great Britain were all being adopted out to magical families and usually Voldemort took no part in those adoptions, letting the system work as it will. But former Order members usually went through him before they were able to adopt. It was the perfect opportunity to ascertain their loyalties and make sure that no rebellions were forming.

He sighed, feeling resigned to his new life. A part of him almost wished for some kind of rebellion, some kind of excitement. Working in an office and filling out paperwork was tedious and boring. If only Dumbledore were still alive, at least then he could expect a good duel now and again.

"Yes, I suppose I should. What time will they be coming in?"

The blonde checked the small notepad she always carried in one hand. "Three o'clock sharp at Child Services. I'll inform them that you're coming down." She rocked on her heels and made no move to leave.

Voldemort fingered the small envelope she'd given him. "Is there something else?"

She shook her head. "I was just wondering if perhaps…there was a new picture." Her eyes made a small movement in the direction of his bookshelf. On the top shelf was a row of photographs; each one was of Harry doing various things.

"And if there was, do you think that's any of your business?" He questioned. She scowled and stomped out, shutting the door with a bang.

Voldemort merely shook his head at the woman. It was truly mind-boggling how a mere squib would seek to aggravate him, while at the same time, nearly every witch and wizard who knew of him, feared him greatly. If her behavior didn't make him so damn curious, he would have killed her long ago. He shook his head again and opened the envelope from Miss Fallow.

_Master Voldemort,_

_I wish to thank you for the gift you sent Harry for his birthday. He was so enraptured with it that he begged me to allow it in bed with him. I told him no but, as you can see from the picture, he did not listen._

Voldemort reached inside the envelope and pulled out a small photograph of Harry lying in bed, his new broom under the covers next to him. The Dark Lord grinned at the image of the little boy with the broom he had given.

_Harry's level of intelligence continues to astound me. Just the other day I caught him in the library reading one of your old schoolbooks. He's three years old for Merlin's sake and he was reading a second-year Charms book. Much of the time he speaks like an adult and his writing has improved greatly in the last few months._

_It remains obvious though, despite his intelligence and constant thirst for knowledge, that he is still just a little boy. A boy who is growing lonelier with each passing day and I urge you to visit soon. His faith in you is wavering. Just before the broom arrived, he was actually crying because he assumed you've forgotten all about him._

_Your faithful servant,  
__Miss Fallow_

Voldemort's eyes scanned the parchment once more, making sure that he hadn't missed anything. Her letters were becoming shorter each month and he knew that it was in response to his absence. She was angry with him and this was the only way she could show that anger while still following his orders. He quickly picked up a quill to pen a reply.

_Miss Fallow,_

_I am glad to hear that Harry is doing well. I will be returning to the mansion in two months time. Please do not inform the boy, I wish for it to be a surprise._

_The Dark Lord Voldemort  
__Minister of Magic, Great Britain_

The day passed slowly for the leader of wizarding Britain. Every minute seemed to take hours as he poured through contracts and law proposals. Its no wonder Fudge was Minister for so long, he thought with a snort, who else would want it? Finally the small hand was nearly at the three and he knew it was time to head to Child Services.

In the elevator he found himself standing behind two gossipy witches who were engrossed in deep conversation. Voldemort nearly pulled his wand at the two harpies as they chattered on and on about some silly wizarding wireless show.

"And then they found out their son was a squib."

"Really, I can't imagine."

"Yes, I was quite surprised as well. Then the husband's evil twin returned from the grave. How, no one knows, but I'm sure we won't find out until sweeps."

"Excuse me ladies," he ground out angrily as he made his way off the elevator.

"Very sorry, My Lord," they apologized and quickly moved out of the way. As soon as he was out he heard their chatter start anew.

Was this what he really wanted? Paperwork and office politics, chattering witches and stubborn assistants? His hand automatically twitched toward his wand, it yearned to do magic, dark and powerful magic. Soon, he told it soothingly, when we go to Harry and begin training him, then we will do powerful magic and it will be all the more wonderful once Harry was his equal.

"Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom," he greeted the couple coldly.

Their expressions were closed off and stern, but their emotions were rolling off them in waves. Both were afraid of being denied the adoption. They were also frightened of the Dark Lord, which he did not hold against them. Their fear didn't stop them from going through with all of this and he respected their bravery.

"Lord Voldemort," they acknowledged in return.

He glanced at the file that lay on the desk between them. "I see here that you wish to adopt a three-year old muggle-born female named Hermione, is this correct?"

They both nodded.

"You do understand that, given her young age, she is exceptionally adoptable? The obliviate done on her was very weak and thus, she should have no ill side effects in the future."

They both nodded.

"So tell me why I should allow you to adopt Hermione?"

The two exchanged looks and a silent agreement was made that the husband, Frank, would speak for them both. "Well My Lord, we believe that we have the money and standing to raise Hermione to be a fine witch. Besides that, we are purebloods."

Voldemort nodded; glad that they would bring up such a thing. There was time, not long ago, when being a pureblood didn't mean as much. He was glad to see an old family like the Longbottom's attempting to use their ancestry to their advantage.

"I see no reason to protest this adoption," he stated and they both sighed in relief. He shook their hands and looked each directly in the eyes. There was no insincerity or hidden motives in what they were doing. Better yet, he could see no memories of any kind of rebellion forming.

"Thank you so much My Lord, you are very kind," the woman, Alice Longbottom, said in a tearful voice.

"Think nothing of it." He pushed the intercom button on his desk. "Miss Whitely, can you bring the young girl in please?"

A gray-haired, stern looking woman came in carrying a tiny girl with thick brown curls. Alice held out her arms and the girl went to the woman without hesitation. Frank hugged them both and they headed out the door while Voldemort sat behind the large brown desk, alone.

He huffed at his own self-pity and made his way back to his own office. After a stiff farewell to his assistant, he apparated away, appearing with a crack at his small house in Hogsmeade. The place was quiet and empty, only one or two pieces of furniture besides his bed. Usually it didn't bother him to be alone, usually he liked the quiet, but today, for some reason, it bothered him.

Voldemort paced the sitting room floor a few times before turning on the Wizarding Wireless. Then he turned it off, then on again. He made himself tea and then threw it out. He tried to read the Prophet but couldn't keep his mind on it.

"Two months," he reminded the empty room.


	4. Chapter 4

_One month later_

Voldemort sat at his desk, rubbing his forehead in frustration. The stack of forms that his secretary had just dropped off wasn't getting any smaller, no matter how much he cursed it under his breath. When the clock chimed twice, he was actually glad that he had an appointment.

Miss Stern immediately poked her head around the door, forgetting to knock as usual. "Mr. Malfoy is waiting in the silver room, would you like me to bring him here?" Of course Lucius was in the silver room, he'd probably been sitting there for ten minutes already, the man was always early.

Voldemort shook his head. "That won't be necessary, I'll go to him. I need a break from my office."

"Lucius," the Dark Lord said in greeting as he stepped through the doorway into the silver room. He walked straight past the man and headed to his liquor cabinet in the far corner.

The room was so named due to the silver tapestries hanging over the walls and ceiling. A large, brown leather sofa and two brown leather straight-backed chairs sat in the middle, a completely average square coffee table placed between them.

"My Lord," Lucius replied with a stately bow. The blonde wizard's lips twitched in amusement. "Rough day, My Lord?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes and motioned for the man to take a seat in one of the chairs while he sat in the other. "You don't know the half of it," he sighed as he stared wistfully into the glass of whiskey he'd just poured.

Now Lucius was beginning to look truly concerned. "If there is a problem, please let me know My Lord, and I will do my best to take care of it."

"Of course you would Lucius," the Dark Lord drawled in a bored tone. "But there are no problems everything's progressing just as it should."

Lucius gave him a confused look. "I apologize my Lord, but I don't quite understand. Are you trying to tell me that the reason you are so despondent lately is due to the fact that there are no problems?"

Voldemort spun the glass in his hand. "Astute as always my friend," he replied. "I feel somewhat disappointed with the ease of my victory over the wizarding world. Yes, I still have hopes for more, but from here on out, all of the fighting I shall do will be political in nature. I have an army to fight my battles, while I sit in my office and fill out forms." He downed the whiskey in one gulp and slammed the glass down on the coffee table. A wave of his wand and the glass was full once more.

It embarrassed him to put on such a display in front of one of his followers, but if it had to be anyone, he was glad it was Lucius. The blonde had always been his most loyal and levelheaded follower.

"This is what I envisioned, but not what I truly wanted," he explained and was glad when a look of understanding passed over the other man's face. "I feel as if I am a child on Christmas morning. All of the presents have been opened and now I feel only disappointment that the excitement is over and done. Don't you see Lucius, for one such as I, it is not the crown or the glory of victory, but the blood and the battle."

"I am not like you," he candidly admitted to his servant. "I cannot find satisfaction in being king."

Lucius gave him a questioning look. "What would satisfy you my Lord?"

"A new challenge," Voldemort stated, "I will be leaving in a month to see to the child's training. I'm putting you in charge of the day-to-day operations. If there are any major problems you may contact me at my castle."

"My Lord," gasped Lucius, "thank you for finding me worthy of such an honor. I swear I will not disappoint."

Voldemort nodded, his expression showing his relief. "I know you will not and that is why I chose you." He sipped his whiskey and stared at his self-portrait hanging above the mantle. "It is time I returned to the shadows my friend," he raised his glass toward the image of himself, "That is where I am at my finest."

_One month later_

"Harry, be careful. I don't want you falling off that broom and getting dirty."

Harry nodded forcefully and made another tight turn on his new broom. He wondered what had Miss Fallow so out of sorts. All day she'd been shouting at him to stay clean and not get dirty, even made him put on his nicest robes. Not that Harry minded putting on his nice robes. His nice robes were black with little silver snakes slithering around the bottom and, best of all; they were exactly the same as the ones Voldemort wore in the picture on the mantle.

"Harry, did you hear me?"

"Yes, Miss Fallow," he shouted back while performing a few rolls.

"I said be careful!" She exclaimed. "I don't want you getting hurt."

"I am being careful," Harry assured her, deciding to keep the broom straight and steady so he wouldn't get in trouble.

He laid down flat against the broom handle and traced his fingers over the gold letters that spelled out his name. "Harry Potter," he whispered softly, a frown forming on his small lips. The name was so average and boring, not like his Lord. Voldemort, there was a name for a great wizard.

Sometimes Harry had daydreams that his last name was Voldemort and he was Voldemort's son. He knew it couldn't be true though, because Miss Fallow had told him that his parents were bad and been killed by the Dark Lord, but a boy could dream. He let out a loud sigh and did another roll. Miss Fallow gasped and he immediately straightened up.

"I'm sorry Miss Fallow, I'll be more careful," he assured, turning his head to look at her. But her eyes weren't on him; they were staring off toward the front gate, a gate that hadn't been opened since the night the Dark Lord Voldemort brought him to live in the castle. "Miss Fallow…" His voice trailed off as his eyes followed her gaze.

A dark cloaked figure stood just on the other side of the fence, his hood pulled back. It was a man, Harry could see, a man with dark hair and bright crimson eyes. Harry's jaw dropped as the man opened the gate and stepped forward. Only one wizard existed with those eyes.

"It's him, Miss Fallow!" Harry exclaimed, flying quickly to the matron.

The woman ignored the small child and instantly fell to one knee as Voldemort approached. Harry quickly got off his broom and followed her lead, deciding it was the best bet since Miss Fallow'd never told him what to do when their Master finally returned home. He intently stared down at the man's black shoes, trying his hardest not to fidget.

A cool, pale finger suddenly snaked under his chin, pulling upward and causing him to look into his Master's bright crimson eyes. The Dark Lord's expression was stern, but one corner of his mouth was turned up slightly in amusement.

"Never kneel Harry Potter, not to me, not to anyone," Voldemort commanded sternly and Harry felt a shiver run through his entire body. He continued to pull Harry's chin upward until the boy was standing straight. "I wish you to be loyal, but you are not a pet, nor a servant."

Harry cocked his head to one side, feeling confused. "Then what am I?"

A grin formed on the Dark Lord's lips as he looked directly into the boy's eyes. "Let us retire to the dining room for supper," he commanded, ignoring Harry's question and turning toward Miss Fallow.

"Of course my Lord," she replied, rising from the ground to stand straight.

Then, much to everyone's surprise, Voldemort reached down and scooped Harry up from the ground. Miss Fallow's jaw dropped before she moved inside to see to dinner. Little Harry was confused by the whole display. He hung loosely in the man's arms before hesitantly wrapping his small legs around the man's middle. Only Miss Fallow had held him so close.

This was different then when his nanny held him. This was a thousand times more different. Harry could feel his Lord's magic thrumming underneath the man's skin and everywhere they touched was hot, like being to close to a stove or a fire. It wasn't a bad kind of hot though. No, it was a good kind, like snuggling under warm blankets on a cold night.

"My Lord," he breathed out against the man's neck, completely enraptured.

Voldemort patted him softly on the back and carried him inside. He'd already decided that he would not raise Harry up to be another Dark Lord. The little boy in his arms would know emotions that the young Tom Riddle had never known as a child. It would not only serve to make young Harry a more powerful and balanced wizard, but it would also make sure that the boy remained attached to him and completely loyal.

It was an experiment really, he decided while setting Harry down in the highchair next to the dinner table. Voldemort took a seat across from the boy and studied the child for a moment. Here before him was a magically powerful creature which he could mold and form. Harry didn't truly exist, since Voldemort had yet to create the boy. This would be a challenge, he commented internally. Harry looked up at him and smiled, green eyes full of awe and wonder.


	5. Chapter 5

Dinner was a slow and casual affair. Voldemort made small talk with Miss Fallow while his eyes watched the dark-haired child. He made note of the boy's various mannerisms, from the way Harry cocked his head to one side while listening to their conversation, to the way he tapped his short, little fingers on the tabletop when he became bored.

The one thing he noticed above all others, was the way the child stared at him. Harry watched him as much as he watched Harry, but the boy did so unabashedly. The child's expression kept cycling through happiness, hero-worship and fear. Voldemort made a note of that as well. It would have to be changed. For his plans to work, the boy would have to see him as something else. It was a problem he would have to discuss with the boy's nanny, since she'd spent the most time with the child.

"So how are things in wizarding Britain? It's been so long since I've visited Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade." Miss Fallow's eyes were alight with interest.

"Things are much the same as they've always been. Diagon Alley has been expanded and Hogsmeade has doubled in size. Wizarding families are larger now. Everyone's adopting muggle-borns so there are gigantic houses everywhere. Godric's Hollow has also become an all wizard village."

She clapped her hands joyfully. "How wonderful, another wizarding village. I would like to visit some day."

"And you will get the chance," Voldemort responded with a stern nod. "Now that I'll be staying at the castle on a permanent basis."

The sound of a fork hitting a plate echoed through the room. "My Lord," she stuttered, "You are certain you will stay?" Her eyes strayed to the child and Voldemort understood the underlying concern in her tone.

"Yes, I am quite certain. I've grown bored with politics. Lucius will look after things in my stead while I train Harry."

"Train Harry?" Miss Fallow questioned, smile turning into a confused frown. "But he's so young my Lord."

He patted the worried young woman on the knee. "No Dark Magic yet," he assured, "Just basics on wizarding etiquette and the like." She appeared affronted by the notion that she hadn't already taught the boy wizarding etiquette, so he quickly changed course. "Perhaps some wandless magic if he shows an aptitude. I certainly did when I was a child."

"But My Lord," she began hesitantly. "Harry is not you. How can you know he'll be more than an ordinary wizard?"

Voldemort scoffed at that notion. "The very events that have brought him here to sit in front of me prove that Harry is no ordinary wizard."

She turned back to her plate as if conceding the point, but he could see the worry in the back of her mind. It didn't truly matter if she was worried. Harry would prove him right. The child would be a wizard like none ever seen in history.

Voldemort and Harry retired to the sitting room after they finished with dessert. Voldemort was very happy to see that Harry enjoyed chocolate just as much as he always had. A sweet tooth, another in the long list of things they have in common. He made certain to make a note of it in his mind.

As he sat next to the child, he realized the boy had not spoken a word since those few uttered at his arrival. "Do you like snakes Harry?"

Harry sat up straight, looking horrified at being addressed so casually by a man he saw as a god. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound would come out. Finally he gave a slight nod before returning to the study of his shoes.

"Well, that is good because Nagini will be coming to stay with us as well. Do you know of Nagini?" Another nod and a finger pointed toward the mantle. There sat a picture of Voldemort with his familiar.

Finally Harry mustered up the courage to ask the question he'd been dying to ask. "Can you really talk to snakes?"

This time it was Voldemort who looked surprised, but he recovered quickly and did his best to keep the tone casual and light. "Yes, I can really talk to snakes."

The child looked up at him with big green eyes. "Can anyone learn?"

"I'm afraid not. Parseltongue isn't a language that one can be taught it's a skill that one is born with. I am a Parselmouth because I am an heir of Salazar Slytherin."

Harry cocked his head to one side. "What does it sound like when a snake talks to you?"

Voldemort had to think about that one. "I suppose it sounds just like a person speaking English but with a slight hissing in the background."

The boy did not speak again, so Voldemort passed the time by reading through some of the old Daily Prophets sitting on the coffee table. He wanted Harry to be comfortable in his presence so he decided he would not force himself on the boy.

An hour passed in complete silence and then suddenly he felt a pressure at his side. Harry had fallen asleep. Voldemort watched the boy for a few minutes before carefully lifting the child into his arms. Harry was so light, Voldemort wondered if he was being fed properly.

He stood in the doorway to Harry's bedroom after laying the boy down on the large, soft bed. A wave of his wand had transfigured Harry's robes to plain green pajamas. Voldemort stared openly at the child, fixated on the little chest rising up and down under the thick comforter. Such a fragile thing, it was hard to imagine the boy growing into something strong and powerful. It reminded him of a basilisk that way, a fragile egg protecting something great.

The next few days passed awkwardly. Harry was clumsy around him, always nervous and stuttering. Miss Fallow explained that the boy was nervous. Apparently the boy was completely enthralled with Voldemort, saw him as some kind of hero. He couldn't help but chuckle at the very irony of it all. James Potter must be rolling in his grave.

"He's still so nervy," Voldemort commented to Miss Fallow as they watched Harry slowly circle the front garden on his broom.

Miss Fallow nodded in agreement. "Usually he'd be zipping so fast on that thing that I'd be near fainting. I've never seen him fly so slow."

"How can I fix this?" He questioned. "I can't train him up to be my equal if he's so fearful of me."

"It's not fear," she chuckled. "It's awe and wonder. He sees you as more than human, like a god. If you want to connect with him, then you need him to see that you and he are the same."

"And how exactly do I do that?"

The woman shrugged. "Make a mistake. The one thing that all humans share is fallibility. If you want Harry to see you as a mentor now and a friend later, then you need to show him that when he gets older he can be equal to you. Right now he thinks you can do no wrong."

Voldemort let out a loud snort at that. Finding the very idea humorous. "Perhaps you are right," he commented while Harry turned to look at him, nearly falling of his broom in the process. "What would be the best way to go about this?"

Miss Fallow chuckled. "You don't remember how to make mistakes?"

"That's not it. I don't know how to make a mistake that will look genuine to the eyes of a child."

Her brow furrowed. "Hurt yourself," she stated after a moment's contemplation.

"Hurt myself?!"

She nodded. "If Harry sees you in pain, he'll empathize because he's also felt pain. Shared experience would also be a good idea. Maybe you could take him out into the forest and pretend to get lost. Then you could work together to find your way home."

"Hmmm," he mulled both plans over in his Slytherin mind. "I've got it. We'll go out to the forest and I'll pretend to break my ankle."

"Perfect," she agreed with a smile.

This is not going the way I had hoped, Voldemort thought with a frown. He'd followed the plan, taking Harry out into the forest and pretending to break his ankle. Only he hadn't needed to pretend, a herd of wild hippogriffs had seen to that and it wasn't his ankle, it was his leg. So now, here they were in the middle of the forest, him leaning against a tree with Harry at his side looking frightened.

"Don't be scared Harry. We'll find the way back." He pointed toward a large tree of to the right. "Go break off one of those limbs for me so I can use it as a walking stick."

Hesitantly the boy rose from the ground and slowly made his way toward the tree. Leaping up, he grabbed a branch, pulling with all his worth. It was no use, the limbs were too thick and Harry too weak.

"It won't break," the boy wailed as he jerked madly at the thick piece of wood.

"Try and find a thinner one then," Voldemort encouraged form his place on the ground.

"No," Harry replied stubbornly. "I'll get it." He tugged a few more times and a loud crack echoed through the forest. Harry tumbled to the ground, the thick limb held tightly in his little hands, which were now bleeding, from the rough bark of the tree.

"Let me see those," Voldemort urged as the boy dragged the branch to him. Harry held out his hands obediently and the older wizard cast a healing charm.

"Can't you heal your leg too?" Harry questioned.

Voldemort shook his head. "I only know a few minor healing charms for cuts and bruises. My spell work has always gravitated more to offensive and defensive spells."

"That's too bad," Harry commented.

"We'll look some healing spells up once we get back to the castle. Now help me up from these leaves." He put a strong hand on the child's shoulder and pushed up from the ground. The pain in his leg coursed up his body but it wasn't unbearable. It was nothing as bad as the Cruciatus or any of the hundreds of other dark spells he'd been subjected to in his eventful life.

"How will we get back if we don't know the way?" Harry stammered, voice full of fear.

Voldemort squeezed the boy's shoulder. "We just need to use our heads and we'll be fine. Do you remember where the sun was when we left?"

Harry nodded. "It was just coming up."

"And now look at it."

"It's going down," the boy said with a frown. "It'll be dark soon." A shiver ran through his small body at the very thought.

"Not to worry. By the direction of the sun we know which way is West and which is East and I'm fairly certain that the castle is to the East."

It was slow going but the two managed. Harry, with his small legs, could easily match the slow pace of Voldemort as he limped along with his walking stick. The darker the forest became, the closer Harry walked to the other man, until Voldemort nearly tripped over him.

"Climb up on my back Harry, I'm sure your legs are tired."

"But you're hurt," Harry stated, "I couldn't do that." Voldemort could see the boy was trying to push his fear to the back of his mind.

He shrugged. "Have it your way. Look, an owl! We must be getting close."

And they were close, as they pushed through the next clump of trees, the garden appeared up ahead. "We're home!" Harry whooped excitedly. "And now Miss Fallow can fix you up and we can have dinner." His stomach gave a loud growl.

He stopped Harry at the front door and turned the boy to face him. Harry scuffed his shoes, a bright flush in his normally pale cheeks. "I want to thank you Harry. If I would have been out there alone, I don't think I'd have made it." He ruffled the boy's hair. "Now go on and find Miss Fallow so she can stop worrying."

Harry flashed him a wide smile before running off to find his nanny. Voldemort let out a loud sigh, glad that the ordeal was over. His lips turned up in a sly grin as he tapped his injured leg with his wand, healing it instantly. The plan had been extremely effective; he'd have to thank Miss Fallow for the idea…once she healed his leg of course. He limped into the main hall, doing his best to look pained.


	6. Chapter 6

If Harry believed that Voldemort would be an authority figure, much like Miss Fallow, he was quickly proven wrong. Over the next few weeks the older wizard laughed with him, played games with him and even assisted him in occasional rule breaking. The man seemed to have an unnatural knack for planning and organization. If Miss Fallow told Harry that he could only have one cookie before lunch, Voldemort would come up with a plan to distract the woman and sneak to the kitchens. If Miss Fallow said there was to be no broom riding inside the castle, Voldemort would spell them invisible so they could fly right under her nose.

Things only got better, or worse in Miss Fallow's opinion, when Nagini finally came to join her master. The gigantic snake immediately took to Harry; Voldemort was even surprised by the depth of the connection the two seemed to share. Harry couldn't speak to the snake, but they understood each other in a way that made speech unnecessary. Quite a few nights Harry would awake to find Nagini's head resting peacefully on his small chest.

Harry was also learning simple magics without a wand and, as long as Miss Fallow was absent, much more difficult spells using Voldemort's own wand. Once in awhile the nanny would walk in on one of their study sessions and then Voldemort would get chided in the same way Harry was if he was caught stealing cookies or flying his broom in the castle, which only made him adore the man all the more.

So it was on a cold night in December that a soft tapping awoke Harry in the middle of the night. With bright green eyes he peered around the room, attempting to the find the source of the odd noise. Owls don't deliver so late, he knew that for certain. A gasp escaped him as he pushed his glasses up his nose. A dark figure floated outside the window with crimson eyes glowing from underneath a black cloak.

Without hesitation the small boy raced across the room and threw open the windows, shivering as the cold winter air rushed in. His eyes were as wide as saucers as he stared up at Voldemort, who was floating ever so gracefully on a beautiful golden broomstick.

"Come with me," the man urged, reaching out a pale, white hand.

Harry didn't think once, let out alone twice. He immediately reached out and allowed himself to be pulled astride the broom, back resting comfortably on the older wizard's front. Voldemort pulled his black cloak around them both and Harry noticed the warmth immediately. He tugged at the fabric, eyeing it curiously, wondering what kind of spells were on it.

"Where are we going?"

Voldemort waved his wand at the open window and it immediately snapped shut. "There's something I want you to see," he whispered softly before maneuvering the broom toward the front gate. They slowly floated over the fence and landed gently on the other side.

"But why did we stop? What are you going to show me? How will we get there?" Harry asked breathlessly.

The crimson-eyed man knelt down and looked him directly in the eyes. "Do you trust me Harry?"

"Of course," he replied without hesitation.

"Then take my hands and close your eyes."

Nervously Harry reached for the other man, grasping the pale hands as tightly as could, little nails digging half-moons into Voldemort's skin. Closing his eyes was more difficult. He didn't like not being able to see what was about to happen.

Voldemort noticed his hesitation. "Trust me Harry and close your eyes."

So it's a test, Harry decided in his mind and he'd never failed one of Voldemort's tests yet, he wasn't about to start now. "I trust you," he responded and closed his eyes as tightly as he could.

He did his best to prepare for anything that might happen, but he'd never imagined what Voldemort was about to do. In an instant Harry felt as if he was being shrunk down until he'd disappear and then, in a snap, he was normal again. Hesitantly he opened his eyes and took note of his limbs and fingers.

Voldemort scooped him up from the ground, wrapping his cloak around them both once more, and began walking. "It's not far now."

"What was that?" Harry questioned in confusion.

"It's called Apparition," Voldemort explained patiently, "It's a magical way for wizards and witches to travel. It's also much faster than a broom or floo, but about the same as a portkey, less nauseating though in my opinion."

"Can you teach me how?" Harry asked excitedly.

Voldemort shook his head. "It's very advanced Harry. Most young wizards and witches don't learn until they're seventeen and even then, most haven't perfected it and probably never will."

"Where are we?" Harry questioned Voldemort trudged through the snow. Small shops with darkened windows stood on both sides of the street.

"A wizarding village called Hogsmeade. Now, close your eyes again, I want this to be a surprise."

Harry closed his eyes and waited patiently, small head resting on Voldemort's shoulder. He'd almost fallen back to sleep when he noticed that the older wizard had stopped. They must have got to wherever they were going. A creaking sound echoed through the cold night. It reminded him of the front gate leading into the gardens back home.

"Open your eyes Harry," Voldemort whispered softly.

Harry held his breath and slowly opened his eyes. "What is it?" He gasped, little head tilting upward to view the gigantic castle in the distance.

It was quite a sight with its tall towers and soft light shining from its large windows. Harry was reminded of Voldemort's castle, but this was bigger and much more…magical.

"That is Hogwarts, remember I told you about it?" Harry nodded. "Isn't it beautiful?" Harry nodded again.

"That's where children go to learn magic?"

"Magical children," Voldemort corrected, "Muggles cannot see it and wouldn't be able to find it if they walked right into it." Suddenly Harry's grip tightened and Voldemort gave him a confused look. "It's nothing to be afraid of Harry, nothing here would ever hurt you."

A sinking feeling formed in the pit of Harry's stomach. If this was where magical children learned magic, perhaps Voldemort was planning on leaving him at Hogwarts. He opened his mouth to tell the man his fears but choked on the words. Tears formed without warning and he hastily wiped them away with the back of his small fist.

"What's wrong?" Voldemort asked worriedly. "What's upset you so?"

"I want you to teach me magic," Harry sobbed angrily. "I don't want to go to some stupid old school." He shook his head wildly. "No, I won't go."

"Harry," the older wizard chuckled in amusement, "I'm not going to leave you at Hogwarts. I have every intention of teaching you everything you need to know. If, when you're much older, you decide you'd like to attend Hogwarts, we'll discuss it then. Don't worry about such things now."

"You promise?"

Voldemort's bright crimson eyes flashed with an emotion that Harry couldn't decipher. "I promise that I will never send you away. You and I will always be together Harry, forever. I have many more sights to show you and great spells to teach you." His tone became loud and full of excitement. "And we'll discover new spells together, perhaps even create our own."

"I wanted you to see Hogwarts for a reason Harry," he continued. "This is where it all started for me. Of course, I knew I was different before coming to Hogwarts, but it was here that I became a real wizard." He gestured toward the castle in the distance. "This was my first home." Harry's head cocked to one side, looking at the old castle in a new way. "Perhaps someday we'll visit during the day and have a look around." That suggestion seemed to worry the boy, so Voldemort decided to add a little something that would definitely peak Harry's interest.

"There's a basilisk in the basement," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Really?" Harry questioned in an awed tone. Voldemort nodded. "Wow! A real basilisk."

"Hogwarts has many more secrets as well. Some I've discovered already, but I'm sure there are many still waiting to be discovered."

Harry turned his gaze away from the towers of the magical school and gave Voldemort a questioning look. "Why don't we just live there then?"

The older wizard laughed at that. "Perhaps someday," he said, patting the small child's back, "Perhaps someday." His crimson eyes narrowed as his mind set new plans in motion and edited some already in the works.

**DSz**

Lucius Malfoy was not having a good day. Which was unfortunate, since things had been going so well since Voldemort had made him Minister of Magic. That seemed like such a long time ago now, but it was only a year. A year that had gone by without problem, without a hint of rebellion and not a single disaster. Yes, Lucius had done well…until now.

"Dolohov, are you sure about this report?"

The Death Eater nodded quickly. "Yes, sir. I just came from Azkaban and the man's gone."

Lucius cringed. No one had ever escaped from Azkaban. This was bad, very bad. "I will have to inform our Lord."

Dolohov swallowed audibly. "Does he truly need to be told, sir?" He sputtered at the dark look the blonde shot his way. "I just mean, sir…if we could just have a few days I'm sure we can catch him and put all this to rights. No need to bother our Lord about such a small problem."

"You truly believe the escape of Sirius Black is a only a small problem? May I remind you of the Dark Lord's protégé?"

"But what would Black want with Harry Potter?"

Lucius rolled his eyes. No wonder Voldemort wanted to get away, what with all the dunderheads he had to deal with on a daily basis. "I will inform our Lord at once. Do not make this public." Dolohov nodded in understanding and quickly strode from the room, eager to escape.

"I know the feeling," Lucius commented aloud as he glanced up at the portrait of the Dark Lord sitting above the fireplace. "Might as well get it over with."

Pulling open the second drawer of his desk revealed a small, silver dagger. Lucius pressed it to his palm, drawing a small bit of blood. Instantly he disappeared from his office and found himself standing outside a sturdy looking iron gate. A fairly large castle stood not too far away. It looked like a smaller, less flamboyant Hogwarts.

The front door opened and a friendly looking woman rushed across the lawn. "Master Malfoy," she greeted. "I'm Miss Fallow, the house matron, please follow me."

He gave her an odd look as he opened the gate. "How did you know who I am?"

She shrugged. "My Lord informed me that you might visit at some point. You are the only one, other than My Lord and young Harry, with access to the castle."

"Is that so?" He questioned, chest puffing out slightly. Even Severus Snape, considered to be highest in the Dark Lord's favor, did not have access to their Lord's home.

"Yes, Master Malfoy." She led him down a corridor and pushed open a set of double doors. "Please wait here while I fetch Lord Voldemort." He offered a slight bow at her retreat and then turned to study the room.

It wasn't much, just an average looking sitting room. What were you expecting, he chastised mentally, a torture chamber? A myriad of photos sat on the mantle, all of the Potter child. Surprisingly, in one photo the boy was frolicking with none other than Nagini, the Dark Lord's familiar. One eyebrow rose on the blonde's pale face as he contemplated the photo's significance.

"Lucius," a voice hissed, tinged with anger. "Why have you come?"

The blonde turned and immediately fell to one knee. "Forgive me my Lord for disturbing you, but a problem has arose and I feel you should be made aware."

"Sit." Lucius immediately took a seat on one of the leather chairs. Voldemort sat in the one directly across and gave him an expectant look.

"My Lord, Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban," he blurted out without a second thought, knowing the direct approach was always the best when dealing with Voldemort. The man had no time for idle chatter.

A vase exploded on the side table, the only indication Voldemort gave that he felt any emotion at all about the situation. "And what is being done."

"The public is not yet aware and I have given orders to keep it that way. Groups of select Death Eaters are searching Hogsmeade and other areas near Hogwarts. I've also put Fenrir on alert; Black's werewolf friend is currently living on his reserve. Fenrir will smell him before he even gets close."

"He will be looking for Harry," Voldemort broke in, his tone very calm which made the blonde even more nervous.

"And that is why I thought you should be informed immediately. The chances that he might find this place are nearly impossible, but…"

"As impossible as escaping from Azkaban?" The Dark Lord questioned coldly. "This will be a good test for you Lucius. I want the man found and killed."

Lucius did his best to hide his surprise. "Would you like him tortured first?"

Voldemort shook his head, surprising the blonde yet again. "I want it quick and painless. Black's been tortured enough. Imagine being locked up by your friends, accused of the worst of betrayals, then escaping only to find the whole world has changed?"

"He's most likely insane," Lucius put in matter-of-factly. "I will make sure his death is as painless as possible."

"Don't look so disappointed Lucius," Voldemort chuckled. "He did get rid of Pettigrew for us, that's something."

"I did hate that rat." Voldemort rose from his chair and Lucius followed his lead. "I was wondering my Lord," his eyes flitted to the pictures on the mantle. "May I see him?" Crimson eyes narrowed dangerously and the blonde knew he'd made a very bad mistake. "I'm sorry My Lord," he sputtered. "I was merely curious."

Voldemort took a few slow steps forward until he was nearly standing atop the other man. "You are one of my most trusted Lucius, but you push too far. Perhaps you have forgotten just who is your master?"

Lucius dropped to his knees. "I am sorry My Lord. I have not forgotten," he blubbered, "Please forgive me My Lord."

"Crucio," the Dark Lord whispered cruelly, holding the man under the spell for mere seconds. Still, it was enough to leave Lucius cowering on the ground, attempting to catch his breath. "Do not disappoint me again." He waved his wand over the man and with a crack Lucius was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

The mantle clock chimed eight times. Harry glanced up from the spell book he'd been reading for the last hour, catching Voldemort's eye as the man looked up from the newest edition of the Daily Prophet. It was something they did often, catching each other's eye. Harry would smile and the older man's lips would thin into a sly grin. At that moment Harry would always feel they shared a secret, one that no one else would ever know or understand.

Tomorrow was Harry's fifth birthday and he was more excited then he'd ever been. He'd asked for something very special and by the sour expression on Miss Fallow's face, he was fairly sure that he was going to get what he asked for. That meant he'd be traveling to Hogwarts and Harry would finally get to meet the basilisk. Nagini suddenly butted her head into his hand and he petted her head gently. She was excited too, but a little scared at the same time, just as he was.

"Don't worry," he whispered to the large snake, "I won't let the basilisk eat you." Nagini couldn't understand his words, but she understood his tone and immediately relaxed.

"Time for bed Harry," Miss Fallow stated in a stern voice.

Harry yawned sleepily and closed his book. He thought about arguing, but then Voldemort suddenly rose and strode across the room. The man lifted him without a word and began the trek upstairs, Nagini following silently in his footsteps.

"It's best if you get as much sleep as you can tonight Harry," Voldemort stated as he pulled back the sheets of Harry's bed and gently lay the boy down. "Tomorrow will be a long day."

Harry grinned impishly. "I hope I get what I asked for."

Voldemort grinned in return. "You'll have to wait and see." He pulled the covers up over Harry's small form and then turned to leave. A little pale hand tugged his robes.

"Tell me a story," Harry commanded and the Dark Lord cocked his head to the side, studying the boy curiously. It was odd how Harry could sound so mature while making the most childish request.

"If you wish," Voldemort replied quietly. He scratched his chin and tried to recall a children's story he'd heard in the past.

"I don't want one from a book," Harry stated, "I want a real one. Tell me a story about you, those are my favorite."

"Hmmm…a true story…I've already told you all of the good ones; the defeat of Dumbledore, the taking of the Ministry…I can't think of any others worth mentioning."

"Please," Harry pleaded. "I'm not at all tired yet."

"Okay, okay, let me think." Voldemort eyed the boy and tried to think of a tale Harry would enjoy. "There once was a little boy named Tom."

Harry interrupted immediately. "I said I wanted a story about you."

"Be patient," the Dark Lord snapped. "There once was a little boy named Tom Riddle and he was all alone in the world. His mother had died when he was a baby and his father had run off when he'd realized that Tom's mother was a witch. So Tom was an orphan and he was forced to live in an orphanage with muggle children."

"But shouldn't he have been adopted by magical parents?"

Voldemort shook his head. "No one kept track of magical children back then so no one in the magical world knew that Tom even existed. Of course, at the time Tom didn't even know he was a wizard, but as he got older odd things began to happen. The other children, being muggle, thought Tom was strange and they would bully him and call him names.

"Then one day Tom began to take control of his odd powers and he realized that they were a gift and a blessing, not a curse. So now Tom knew he was different but he didn't know why, until he turned eleven."

"What happened then?" Harry questioned, eyes bright and curious.

"An old man with a long white beard came to the orphanage and he told Tom that he was a wizard and that Tom was a wizard too. He asked Tom if he wished to go to a magical school, full of lots of magical children."

"Hogwarts!" Harry exclaimed.

Voldemort nodded. "That's the one. Of course Tom wanted to go, he was sure he would find friends there." The Dark Lord frowned at the memory. "He was very excited as he rode the train and when he rode the small boat across the lake to the great castle called Hogwarts, but after he was sorted and met his housemates, he became discouraged. There wasn't a student in the school that could match his intelligence or his thirst for knowledge."

"All of the children were more worried about dating or Quidditch games, then spell work and magical discovery. So, once again, Tom found himself alone, but he decided he wouldn't waste his time at Hogwarts. Instead he used all of his free time to find out as much as he could about the wizarding world. What he found disgusted him greatly. Magical children were sometimes born to muggles and those children were left with their muggle parents, or in Tom's case, left at a muggle orphanage."

"Tom swore he'd change things and make the magical world a better place. A place where wizarding folk never had to fear discovery by muggles and to do that, the world would have to be changed so wizards and muggles no longer mixed with one another. It was a lofty aspiration, but Tom was dedicated and he knew that if he worked hard enough then one day his dream would come true."

Harry smiled up at him. "And it did."

"Tom decided to leave his muggle name behind and take a new name. A powerful name and one that was of his own making…Voldemort."

"If I work really hard and become powerful, can I change my name someday too?" Harry questioned, brow furrowed.

Voldemort shook his head. "You don't need to change your name, it's already very powerful. All of the wizarding world knows the name Harry Potter and someday that name will strike fear in the hearts of all who dare to cross us."

Harry's brow furrowed deeper. "But I don't want my parent's names. They were bad, weren't they? I don't want people to think I'm like them."

"O Harry," Voldemort chastised, running a hand through the boy's unruly hair. "Your parents weren't bad, they merely had different ideals. They were wrong of course, but they fought for what they believed in and a person can never be bad for fighting for what they believe is right, even if they are wrong. Do you understand?"

Harry shook his head and the Dark Lord sighed.

"James and Lily Potter fought against me to protect you," he explained and Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "I came to kill you that night." Harry's eyes widened further.

"To kill me, but why?"

"You are the only wizard who will ever be able to stand against me and I didn't particularly like the idea of anyone having power to rival my own."

Harry's expression turned to one of confusion. "But then why did you take me instead?"

Crimson eyes looked deeply into emerald green. "Let me tell you how Tom's story ends. After Tom changed his name, a prophecy was told saying that a child would be born and that child would be his equal. So he went to kill the child, but took the child instead. At the time he didn't know why, but years later he understood exactly why he'd taken the boy."

Harry remained silent, green eyes unblinking in the flickering torchlight.

His hand came to rest on the boy's pale cheek. "All of Voldemort's dreams were coming true, but he still wished for something which he'd never had…a friend." He leaned down and gently kissed Harry's forehead. "Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight Voldemort," Harry whispered, his words thick with emotion.

The sitting room was empty when Voldemort returned, Miss Fallow having retired for the evening. He was surprised to find Nagini had followed him from Harry's room. Usually she spent her nights sleeping with the boy.

"_Is there something you wish to speak with me about?"_ He questioned as he poured a glass of scotch.

_"Do you truly feel it's safe to take Harry to Hogwarts? Sirius Black has never been apprehended."_ The snake hissed in a worried tone.

"_He's never been seen since he fled Azkaban and I highly doubt he'd come to Hogwarts with Snape as Headmaster. Those two have always hated each other. No, I'd be less surprised if Black showed up here."_

"_I suppose you're right."_

Voldemort grinned slyly. _"This worry you have about Harry going to Hogwarts wouldn't be from jealousy over a certain basilisk, would it?"_

Nagini reared up angrily. _"I'm merely worried for Harry's safety. That basilisk could be half crazy from living down in that Chamber all these years."_

"_Of course, of course," _Voldemort replied knowingly. _"Not to worry my friend. Harry will always be safe with me, no one would dare even whisper a spell in the boy's direction with me standing next to him."_


	8. Chapter 8

Severus Snape paced nervously in his office. All of the staff had been sent off for the day, per the Dark Lord's command. Why, he truly had no idea, but a sinking feeling settled low in his stomach. Perhaps he had angered his master somehow and now he was to be punished. Perhaps the Dark Lord had found a new Headmaster. Was there a problem with his running of the school?

A flash of green flames in the fireplace broke his dark thoughts and his breath caught in his throat. Out stepped his Lord, Nagini wrapped around the man's shoulders, a confident smirk upon Voldemort's pale face. Severus rushed around his desk and fell to one knee.

"Rise Severus," the Dark Lord commanded, "Have you done what I asked?"

Severus nodded immediately. "Of course My Lord. All of the staff has been sent away and the ghosts have been confined in a classroom on the third floor. There shall be no distractions for whatever business you wish to conduct." He resisted the urge to bite his lip.

The Dark Lord tilted his head to one side and gestured toward the fireplace. Severus looked on nervously and wondered what painful fate the evil wizard had in store for him. Imagine his surprise when the floo flared brightly and a small figure came tumbling out covered in ash. The small form coughed once and then twice. Severus leaned in closer to get a better look.

"I told you to keep your eyes closed and you won't get so disoriented," the Dark Lord admonished. "And for Merlin's sake, don't open your mouth." With a wave of his wand all of the ash was banished away, leaving a small boy in its wake. The child looked up at him with bright green eyes behind large glasses.

Severus couldn't help but gasp. "Harry Potter."

"Headmaster Snape," the child greeted hesitantly, offering him a small bow and a shy smile.

"I should have known that introductions wouldn't be necessary," Voldemort commented idly.

"This is quite an honor, My Lord." Severus knew that no one had seen the Potter boy in the flesh since the night of his disappearance from Godric's Hollow. Even Lucius Malfoy, one of the Dark Lord's most trusted servants, had not been allowed to meet the boy.

The other man nodded curtly while Nagini unwound herself and slithered off across the office. "Why don't you explore a bit with Nagini," he suggested to the child, "While I have a talk with Severus."

Harry followed the large snake without hesitation. It was his first time away from home and he wanted to experience everything he could. Nagini lead him to a wall full of portraits and he chuckled as they all waved merrily from their frames.

"Why, is that Harry Potter I see before me?" An old man with the long white beard asked while adjusting a pair of half-moon spectacles.

Harry nodded shyly. "You're Dumbledore, aren't you? Voldemort's told me all about you. He said you were a very powerful wizard when you were alive."

The wizard smiled wide, blue eyes twinkling. "Did he truly say that? Well, that is something. May I ask how you two are getting along? It has been such a long time since I've had any news of you."

Harry gave him a confused look. "We're getting along fine. We're the best of friends you know?" He puffed out his chest a bit at that, taking pride in his relationship with the most powerful wizard in the world. A strong hand dropped on his shoulder and he smiled up at the Dark Lord.

"Hello Tom," Dumbledore greeted the Dark Lord with a smile. "I see you and young Harry are doing just fine."

"Of course," Voldemort replied with a smirk. "Come along Harry, I want to give you a quick tour of the school before we go to the Chamber."

"Voldemort's taking me to see the basilisk," Harry informed the portraits happily.

"My goodness!" The old wizard exclaimed. "Do be careful!"

"Voldemort will keep me safe," Harry stated fiercely.

The trek through the castle took longer then expected. Harry wanted to see everything and Voldemort seemed pleased to show him. A grand hall with a ceiling that reflected the sky had him 'oohing' and 'aahing' in amazement. The different common rooms were also interesting and Harry was itching to spend more time in the library, which Voldemort promised he could do another day.

"The Chamber of Secrets is in a girl's bathroom?" Harry questioned, giving the Dark Lord a confused look.

"No, but the entrance is. I know its odd, but I assume it wasn't a lavatory when Slytherin constructed it."

Harry pushed open the ancient wooden door and hesitantly entered, the Dark Lord giving him a little shove to urge him on. The room looked particularly dilapidated and he was beginning to wonder whether Voldemort had only been kidding about the Chamber and the basilisk. He scanned the stalls in dismay.

"Is it under one of the toilets?"

"Of course not," Voldemort chuckled. "It's right under here." He gestured to the sinks. "I only need to say the password." He opened his mouth to speak the word in Parseltongue that would open the tunnel but Nagini hissed first.

"_Open."_

Harry's jaw dropped as the sinks began to move apart, revealing a large hole. Voldemort gave Nagini a dark look, clearly unhappy that the snake had interrupted him and ruined the surprise.

"How do we get down?" Harry asked, a bit of fear in his small voice.

Voldemort scooped the boy up and held him close. "We slide of course," he stated simply and then jumped.

The Dark Lord couldn't decide what was more amusing, the high-pitched squeals coming from his young friend or the vice-like grip on his shoulders and middle as Harry held on for dear life. A bark of laughter escaped him as they tumbled and rolled.

"Wow!" Harry exclaimed as Voldemort placed him on the ground. He rocked dizzily and fought to catch his breath. "Can we do that again?"

Another bark of laughter echoed through the dark tunnels. A moment later there was an angry hiss as Nagini came to the end of the slide. The giant snake looked extremely perturbed by the hard landing and only stopped complaining when Harry hugged and patted her consolingly.

"The Chamber's straight down this tunnel," Voldemort stated, gesturing to the left. "It's not far so it shouldn't take long."

The trio made its way through the dirt and puddles of water. Harry's excitement seemed to be affecting the other two more than either realized. Nagini twitched nervously and Voldemort fidgeted with his wand. As the chamber door grew near, Harry suddenly reached out and grasped the Dark Lord's large hand with very small one. It was his way of telling the man that he was ready.

"_Would you like to do the honors?" _Voldemort asked his familiar.

"_Just get on with it," _the snake hissed in agitation.

"_Open."_ The locks immediately disengaged and the door opened wide. "Welcome to the Chamber of Secrets Harry, and that," he gestured to the large basilisk sleeping toward the other end of the chamber, "is Ethelinda."

Harry's whole body was shaking. "A real basilisk," he whispered in awe.

"_Perhaps you should speak to the beast before bringing the boy inside,"_ suggested Nagini.

Voldemort shook his head. _"I can control her."_ Nagini hissed her disapproval before remaining silent.

"Keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them," he commanded.

"I hate closing my eyes," Harry complained, but closed them anyway.

"I know, but you're not immune to the basilisk's stare as I am so I need to make sure she understands that she cannot use her death gaze while you are with me."

Harry nodded in understanding and kept a firm grip on the Dark Lord's hand, as he was lead across the Chamber. The sound of Nagini slithering close by did much to calm his nerves and he reached out blindly to pat the snake.

"_Master," _Ethelinda greeted, slowly opening her large red eyes, _"You have returned."_

Voldemort tilted his head to one side. _"Greetings Ethelinda. Yes, I have returned and brought a guest. He is not immune to your gaze, as I am, so you will need to use your non-fatal gaze."_

"_Of course," _the large snake replied and its eyes instantly went from a bright red to a dull green.

"You can open your eyes now Harry."

Harry did so with much trepidation, carefully squinting one eye open and then the other. He blinked once, and then twice, staring in awed wonder at the gigantic basilisk. Ethelinda was looking at him curiously and for the millionth time in his young life he wished that he could speak Parseltongue.

"Hello," Harry greeted cheerfully and Voldemort immediately translated. "It's a pleasure to meet you." The basilisk hissed, its tone neutral.

"She says hello," Voldemort stated, "And…"

"And what?" Harry questioned curiously.

Voldemort's brow furrowed in confusion. "She says that your voice is green like your eyes."

Harry's face scrunched up as he contemplated that. "What color is your voice?" He waited patiently as the older wizard hissed the question to the gigantic snake.

"She says my voice is gray." His eyes widened as the basilisk hissed another comment. "She says she's never seen a human with a green voice, only gray. When you speak it's confusing to her."

"What do you think it means?" Harry asked, watching as the basilisk's eyes remained fixed on the area in front of his mouth.

Voldemort shook his head. "I don't know. It's been said that magical beasts have different ways of sensing things around them, much different then normal animals apparently."

Harry shuffled his feet. "Do you think it means there's something wrong with me? Or wrong with my magic?"

"Of course not," Voldemort admonished, "If anything it merely makes you more unique then I originally thought."

The basilisk hissed for a long time and Harry waited patiently for the older wizard to translate. But Voldemort didn't translate right away; instead he paused, a queer expression appearing on his normally stoic visage. Harry tugged at the man's hand to get his attention.

"What did she say?" He questioned.

"O…she said," Voldemort stuttered, "She said she's very pleased to meet you. Would you like to see her fangs?" Harry nodded excitedly.

The next few hours were spent relieving Harry's curiosity of all things basilisk related. He touched the snake's fangs, rubbed her scales and almost climbed in her mouth before Voldemort put a stop to that. But as much fun as it was to visit Hogwarts and meet a real basilisk, Harry nearly sighed in relief when it was time to return home.

"Did you enjoy your birthday Harry?" The Dark Lord asked as they walked toward the Headmaster's office.

Harry nodded eagerly. "Yes, very much so. Thank you."

Voldemort's mouth quirked up on one corner, almost into a grin but not quite. "Perhaps we will have to plan another trip soon."

"Why?" Harry asked in confusion. "It won't be my birthday again for a year."

The older wizard chuckled at that. "There's no reason we have to wait for your birthday to plan a trip somewhere."

"Could we go to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley?"

The Dark Lord's brow furrowed slightly. "I suppose we might be able to with the proper preparation."

Harry glanced up at him, eyes narrowed slyly. "I won't let you forget you said that."

"Of course you won't," he replied knowingly.

Back at the house they enjoyed a bit of cake before it was time for Harry to retire for the evening. The day's excitement had tuckered him out more than usual and he barely put up a protest when Miss Fallow insisted he go to bed early. Nagini followed Voldemort as the man retired to his own bedroom for the night.

"_You lied to Harry, didn't you? You didn't tell him what Ethelinda said."_

Voldemort hissed angrily. _"And what should I have told him? What could I tell him that wouldn't scare him?"_

"_She boy is missing a piece of his soul," _Nagini continued, _"What does it mean, do you think?"_

"_She also said the world 'bends to him', whatever that means. Who knows what any of it means," _he shrugged, _"Magical creatures have odd ideas. They see things that are not normally seen, feel things that are not normally felt…"_

"_You are afraid."_ It was not a question, but a statement of fact.

He nodded. _"Of course I am. I knew the boy was special when I took him from his crib as a babe, but I had no idea he would be so important to the workings of the world."_

A loud snort escaped the snake. _"You mean important to the workings of you, don't you? Harry has become your world."_

"_And I his," _he responded, no anger in his voice, only acceptance. _"My goals and aspirations seem petty and useless next to Harry. He's just a child, yet he's captured my imagination more than power or even the promise of victory. It frightens me and excites me at the same time."_

"_There is much to fear in giving a piece of oneself away," _Nagini stated knowingly.

"_You love him too."_

"_Of course."_

"_But why?"_

Nagini managed a snake-like version of a shrug. _"It seems to be right."_ At Voldemort's confused look she attempted to explain. _"My feelings for the boy are like hunting rats or using my poison against an enemy."_

"_Instinctual?" _He asked and the snake nodded in return. _"Yes, I think it is the same for me. The first time I held him close to me, it was like the first time I held my wand or stepped through the doors of Hogwarts…as if I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to do."_

"_But Ethelinda's words…she said a piece is missing. What can it mean?"_

"_It means nothing," _Voldemort growled. _"Merely cryptic messages from a senile beast." _Nagini looked doubtful but knew to remain silent.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just want to thank everyone for the kind reviews. I am glad that so many people are enjoying this story. Do not worry, I will never abandon any of my stories. It may, at times, take me longer to update, but I will finish them all.**

**I'm writing this little promise because many of the stories that I have been enjoying have not been updated in a very, very long while and some seem to have been abandoned altogether. This makes me very angry and frustrated. It's upsetting to read a story that will never be finished, like watching half a movie or tv show...just plain frustrating.**

**To all those authors that continue to write fanfiction, I salute you. Keep up the good writing!**


	9. Chapter 9

Nagini hissed in agitation as Voldemort pulled out an expensive set of robes. _"I do not understand why you are doing this. You've taken Harry to Diagon Alley before while wearing disguises."_

"_It's been almost two years since I've been seen in public," _he hissed calmly, _"It's time to remind the wizarding world that I am still their Lord."_

"_Then leave Harry here. Why put him in danger?"_

Voldemort waved the serpent off. _"Harry is always safe with me. Besides, it's time he made his debut. The Prophet will eat the whole thing up. Voldemort and Harry Potter out for a shopping trip, how sweet." _

"And what about Sirius Black? Have you forgotten that he is still out there somewhere? He is a powerful wizard and very intelligent as well."

"I'm the most powerful wizard in the world, certainly you don't think that I'm incapable of protecting a child."

Nagini gave a final angry hiss before departing. She slithered out the door to most likely spend the night in Harry's bed. The Dark Lord watched her leave through confident eyes. He wasn't worried a bit about tomorrow's outing. Everything would go as planned.

There was more to their impending trip to Diagon Alley then just shopping after all. He planned to surprise the boy with a visit to Ollivander's. No reason the boy should wait until he was eleven to get a wand.

The next morning Harry felt a tad bit ill, although he surely wasn't going to tell Voldemort. It was to be their first visit to the wizarding world as Harry Potter and Voldemort. He swallowed a small bit of toast and frowned as his stomach gurgled angrily. Harry was sure it was just nerves and he knew it would go away as soon as they were at Diagon Alley. He sighed at the thought.

All those shops and things to see. They'd stop at the wizarding bank first and ride the cart down to the Dark Lord's vault. Then a stop at Quality Quidditch Supply for a new broom since he'd outgrown his old one. Voldemort would surely want to buy a few books and Harry was interested in getting his very own owl. Surely the day would be wonderful.

But then why did his stomach feel so angry.

Harry did his best to ignore his stomach and concentrate on getting through breakfast without Miss Fallow or Voldemort realizing there was something wrong. He must have done a fairly good job at it too, because neither one said anything besides a quick word from Miss Fallow to put on his good robes and make sure to not get into any trouble.

Nagini slithered up next to him just as Voldemort was reaching for the floo powder. She hissed something, but of course, Harry had no idea what it was.

"Nagini wants to know if you're feeling alright." The Dark Lord leaned down and studied him carefully. "Are you alright Harry? We can go some other time if you're feeling ill."

Harry shook his head. "Just nervous," he replied, tugging the sleeves of his good robes over his hands. "Everyone will be looking at us."

A grin split the older man's face. Sometimes he forgot Harry only just turned six and was still so young and naïve. "Don't worry Harry. We'll have security with us and they'll make sure no one gets too close. You never have anything to fear when you're with me, I promise." He put a strong hand on the boy's shoulder. "As far as all the people go, just ignore them. We've got our own errands to run. If they want to gawk at us like a bunch of house-elves then they can go right ahead. Today is about you and me." It was a lie, but it seemed to work.

The knot in Harry's stomach eased a tiny bit and he offered a small smile to the older wizard. "I'm ready to go now." He turned toward Nagini and patted her on the head. "Tell Nagini not to worry, I'm fine." Voldemort hissed the message to his familiar and then they were off.

The ride through the floo was as disorienting as ever. Even closing his eyes didn't seem to help and when Voldemort stepped out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry felt as if his head was still spinning.

"Good Morning Tom," the Dark Lord said in greeting to the man behind the bar.

Tom seemed truly surprised because he immediately dropped the mug he'd been drying. "My Lord," he stammered. "Good Morning," he added hastily.

Harry snickered into his hand and watched in fascination as a group of masked wizards and witches surrounded them. One of the wizards or witches, Harry couldn't really tell because of the long blonde hair sticking out from beneath the mask, glided toward them smoothly and offered Voldemort and elegant bow.

"My Lord, all preparations have been taken care of," the man stated assuredly before turning toward Harry. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Potter."

Voldemort rolled his eyes. "I didn't actually introduce you yet Lucius. Harry, this is Lucius Malfoy."

Harry had heard all about Malfoy. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Malfoy," he replied politely.

The Death Eaters lead them out into Diagon Alley, which was exceptionally busy for a Wednesday. Voldemort held Harry close as they waded through the crowds. His followers remained in a tight circle and they arrived at Gringott's without incident.

"I think I've gone blind," Harry remarked once they were inside the relative safety of the goblin bank. "All those flashbulbs going off." He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "They're all nutters."

Voldemort lowered him to the floor, but continued to hold one of Harry's hands in his own, reluctant to let the boy go. "I haven't been seen in public for a long while and no one's seen you since you were just a baby, it's understandable that the press is interested."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know why. It's not as if we're doing anything interesting besides shopping."

A sly grin formed on Voldemort's thin lips. "Perhaps we are going to do something quite interesting."

Harry eyed him curiously but the older wizard said no more. Instead Harry was pulled along to speak to the head goblin. In mere seconds they were escorted to Voldemort's vault and five minutes later, their business at Gringott's was done. He marveled at the service the Dark Lord received when he was not in disguise.

The man winked at him before tossing a bag full of galleons into the air and then pocketing it. "Sometimes it truly pays to be the leader of wizarding Britain."

Harry grinned as he was lifted from the floor and carried out into Diagon Alley. The nasty feeling in his stomach had been replaced by a feeling of excitement as to the surprise Voldemort had in store. The Dark Lord never teased him about a surprise, unless it was something big.

A few minutes later Harry realized just how interesting the day could get. Voldemort stopped outside a shop they'd never stopped at before. A sign reading 'Ollivander's' caused his breath to catch in his throat.

"Is this…are we…what…"

"Stop stuttering Harry," Voldemort chastised in a thoroughly amused tone. "People will think you're daft."

"A wand," Harry whispered, "You're going to buy me a wand."

Voldemort's smile was dazzling and the press ate it up. Flashbulbs went off like crazy. Harry couldn't see a thing as Voldemort carried him into the darkened store. The ringing of a bell announced their arrival and a creepy voice called out from somewhere in the back.

"Yew, 13 ½ inches, cored with a single phoenix feather. A very rare wand, very rare indeed. My Lord, it is good to see you doing so well."

"Ollivander," Voldemort greeted the man politely. The silver-haired wizard stepped out from behind a musty shelf and a strange image suddenly bubbled up from the back of the Dark Lord's mind. He could see the eccentric wand maker kneeling in front of him, begging to be spared. Voldemort shook his head and the image disappeared. How odd, he thought, but did not dwell on it, deciding to file it away for later contemplation. "We have come to get Harry a wand." He gestured to the boy standing next to him.

Ollivander blinked at the man and then down at the boy. By his expression it seemed that he hadn't even noticed the boy come in. A look of confusion passed over his face, which turned into a look of curiosity. "Odd that I didn't see you there Mr. Potter, but no matter. Which hand is your wand hand?"

"My right," Harry responded excitedly.

Voldemort expected the man to bring out his magical measuring tape, as he did for all the children who came to buy their first wands, but he didn't. Instead Ollivander merely cocked his head to one side before turning to disappear into the back of the store. He reappeared a minute later holding a small, dusty box.

"There is no need to take measurements," he explained as he opened the box. An average sized holly wand lay inside. "This is your wand, of that I am sure."

Harry snatched up the wooden stock eagerly and gave it a swish. Nothing happened. He gave it another, still nothing happened. He looked at the wand maker in dismay. "I don't think this is mine."

Ollivander shook his head. "It is your wand, but it will not work for you…yet. Have you ever used a wand before, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I've used the Dark Lord's wand many times and it always works alright."

The old silver-haired wizard tapped the side of his nose and gave Voldemort a strange look. "This wand is a very special wand. It is made of holly, not a rare wood, but the core is a phoenix feather from a very special phoenix. The same phoenix gave another feather, just one other."

"Brother wands," Voldemort gasped. "But then why won't the wand work for Harry. Are you certain this is the wand for him? Is it because he's only six, is that why it won't work?"

"This wand is Harry Potter's wand," Ollivander reiterated, "which makes one wonder if this boy is Harry Potter."

"Of course I am," Harry sputtered. "Who else would I be?"

Voldemort looked from the wand maker to Harry in confusion. There was something more going on here. Something that Ollivander was trying to tell him. Damn the old man for speaking in riddles. It reminded him too much of Dumbledore.

In one swift move he grabbed Ollivander around the neck and yanked the man closer. "Why won't Harry's wand work for him, yet mine does? If you know something, then I suggest you tell me before my patience reaches its end."

Harry bit his lip and averted his eyes, always feeling strange in these kinds of moments. When Voldemort seemed to go from being his best friend, to truly being a Dark Lord. The intensity in the man's eyes, the way they flash red…Harry shivered and backed away a step.

"I truly do not know," Ollivander stated. He swallowed audibly and shook his head. "The connection is missing something and I don't know what it could be."

Voldemort pushed the man away and gathered Harry up in one quick move. On a hunch he grasped Harry's wand in his own hand and gave it a swish. Once again, nothing happened. He stared at the wand curiously and tried again. Nothing. He'd never found a wand that he couldn't use. Some didn't work perfectly, but they always did something. In Harry's wand he felt nothing, as if it truly was only a stick of wood.

"Perhaps it would be best if we cut our trip short today," he stated, noticing the distressed expression on Harry's young face

Harry nodded in agreement and rested his head on the other man's shoulder. Ripping through the anti-apparition wards he himself had placed on the area many years ago, he apparated them both home. By the time he made it to the sitting room Harry was extremely upset.

"What if I'm not really a wizard?" He questioned, his green eyes looking sad and horrified at the same time.

"Of course you're a wizard. You've used my wand and you can do wandless magic. There must be more to it then that. Perhaps you're just not old enough. Most wizard's don't get their wand until they're at least eleven." Voldemort pulled Harry onto his lap and ran a hand through the boy's messy hair. "You're special Harry and strange and wonderful things are bound to happen around you all your life."

Harry looked up at him doubtfully.

Voldemort grinned down at the boy. "Trust me, I know this from experience."

"But you're the Dark Lord," Harry argued.

"And you are Harry Potter," Voldemort stated in return as if it explained everything. Harry's expression turned to one of confusion, but Voldemort's was slowly turning into one of contemplation.

Perhaps that was all there is to it, Voldemort thought to himself. He knew when he took Harry that night he'd changed both their fates and now, it seems, they were finally beginning to see the ramifications of his actions. He took out his own wand and handed it to the boy, enjoying the look of contentment on the child's face.

"Can you feel the magic, Harry?"

"Yes," the boy replied, sounding completely satisfied at the moment.

Voldemort looked at Harry curiously as a strange thought suddenly came to him. "What does it feel like?" He questioned.

"It feels like you," Harry sighed before curling into the man. "It makes me feel powerful right here," he pointed at his heart. "What does magic feel like to you?"

Suddenly feeling out of his depth, Voldemort shrugged and looked away, glad when he heard soft snores escape the child a moment later. He looked down at Harry and felt as if the whole world was closing in on the two of them. All of a sudden his plans seemed absurd regarding Harry. Even taking the boy in the first place seemed absurd.

Voldemort knew all sorts of spells. He'd studied magic all his life. He knew all about the power of it, the chaos of it, the order of it, but this was something new. In Harry he'd found a magic he'd never felt before and it seemed to be slowly corrupting everything that he was. It seemed to be making him gentler at the same time it was making him more vicious then he'd ever been in his life.

This child would always be safe. Even if Harry someday turned away from him or even betrayed him, Voldemort knew that he'd never hurt a hair on the boy's head. But he also knew that he would destroy anyone or anything that ever hurt Harry. For Harry he would fight armies and conquer countries if need be. If the world ever saddened Harry, then he would send it to ruin.


	10. Chapter 10

Voldemort stalked past shelf after shelf full of old tomes and ancient texts. He grabbed a random book, angrily ripping it to shreds before tossing it into the fireplace. He'd searched his entire private library and hadn't located anything the least bit helpful.

"Find anything?" Miss Fallow asked from the doorway.

He shook his head. "No, and I just realized that I donated my best books to Hogwarts. Perhaps a trip is in order."

"But what about Harry? The poor lad's very upset."

Voldemort ran a hand through his hair as he considered his options. Leaving Harry at the castle while he ran to Hogwarts wasn't the best option at the moment. The boy had been extremely despondent since their visit to Diagon Alley. But taking the child to Hogwarts wasn't the best idea either. School was still in session and the place would be teeming with children.

"I'll go have a talk with Harry and see what he'd like to do. Perhaps a visit to Hogwarts would cheer the boy up."

The corridor outside Harry's bedroom was completely silent, which was a very odd thing considering that Harry and Nagini usually make enough noise to wake the dead. Voldemort slowly opened the bedroom door and peeked inside. Harry sat on the bed, wand held limply in his hand.

"Harry," he called out, "Would you like to visit Hogwarts today? I need to do some research and it seems I've donated some of my best books to the school's library."

The child's expression grew worried. "Won't it be full of children…students?"

Voldemort nodded. "I assure you they know better then to bother me or anyone with me. I know it's hard to believe Harry, but even my name frightens most witches and wizards." He moved to sit next on the bed so Harry could lean against his side.

"I always forget that," Harry chuckled and Voldemort grinned, giving the boy a light squeeze.

"Now get your good robes on. No reason we shouldn't look presentable and scare some first years at the same time."

"But I'm smaller then the first years," Harry protested, "How could they be afraid of me? I can't even get my wand to work."

The Dark Lord moved to one knee and took Harry's small hands in his own. "Do you feel that Harry?"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "You feel it too?"

Voldemort nodded. "I can feel your magic Harry, just as you can feel mine. I don't know why it's like that for us, but I have a feeling that is somehow connected to this mystery with your wand. That's why I want to go to Hogwarts. I want to research magical connections and bonds, so will you accompany me?"

"Okay, but I want to explore the castle a bit. Oh! Can I go to a class? I want to see what classes look like and…"

"And?" Voldemort questioned.

A frown tugged at Harry's mouth. "It's nothing really, but I want to see what other children are like. I've only ever seen them at Diagon Alley. I've only been able to watch them from a distance."

Voldemort frowned at that. He didn't know if he wanted Harry spending time with other children. "We'll see what can be worked out once we're there. I have a set of rooms in above the Headmaster's tower, perhaps we might sleep there for a few nights."

"Shouldn't you tell the Headmaster that we're coming?"

The Dark Lord grinned evilly. "And ruin the surprise?"

The two apparated to Hogsmeade and walked to the gates of Hogwarts. It was a beautiful fall day and Voldemort enjoyed the sound of dry leaves crunching under his feet. Harry was stiff in his arms due to nervousness, but he didn't mention it to the boy, knowing that calling attention to fear can only make it worse.

A class was taking place out on the grounds near the forest. "Must be Care of Magical Creatures," he commented idly. "Would you like to go and see what they're studying today?"

Harry stared at the large group of students with a worried expression in his bright green eyes. "You won't leave me with them, will you?"

"Of course not," the Dark Lord stated, placing the boy on the ground and grabbing a hold of one of the boy's hands. "We'll walk over together."

The professor didn't notice them stroll up behind the students, at least he didn't notice right away. Once he did he was a bit more than flustered, which made all the students turn to stare.

"My Lord," Professor Simmons whispered in an awed tone before falling to one knee and the students did the same a second later.

"Good morning Professor Simmons, students," he greeted in a polite but hard tone. "Please continue with the lesson. Harry is quite curious as to what you might be studying today."

"Of course, My Lord," the man stammered as he rose to his feet. The students remained sitting on the ground. Voldemort pulled Harry toward the front so he'd be able to hear the professor.

"Today we're studying runespoors," Simmons continued, "Of course I haven't actually been able to acquire one, so we're mostly reading from a few books on the subject."

"Really," Voldemort interrupted. "Give me a few days and I'll see what I can do. I'm sure I can at least get you two or three." He flashed the students a charming smile. "Hogwarts is the best school in Europe and its students deserve the best education. Don't you agree?"

Professor Simmons nodded shakily. "Certainly, My Lord. Thank you so much, My Lord."

"Come along Harry," Voldemort commanded as he headed toward the castle.

Harry was glad to get away. "Doesn't it get awfully annoying to have people act like that all the time?"

Voldemort couldn't help but grin. "It's respect through fear," he explained, "and it's just the way I want people to act in my presence."

The child's brow furrowed. "But it still seems like it would get awful sickening to have everyone treat you that way."

"That's why I keep you around," Voldemort chuckled, "You don't act like that."

"I used to when I was small," Harry stated with a slight wince. "Give me a good smack if I ever act like that again."

"You're still small. Ow!" He rubbed the side of his leg where Harry had slugged him. "See what I mean, no one else would have the guts to physically attack me."

Harry grinned. "Miss Fallow does all the time when you help me break rules and I'm not small, I'm nearly six and a half."

"Well that's different, Miss Fallow is a demon in disguise…bloody tyrant, that's what she is."

The library was as quiet as a funeral when they stepped through the large oak doors. Madam Pince was sitting behind her desk, watching the children as if they were all hooligans that would destroy the place if she were to turn away for even a moment. Voldemort felt a great deal of respect for the woman when she showed no surprise at his entrance.

"My Lord," she greeted in barely a whisper. "Is there anything I can help you find?"

He shook his head. "I'll be heading to the Restricted Section," he explained. "Harry will be with me most of the day but he may wander a bit."

Pince looked down her nose at the small boy. "Hello Mr. Potter. I'm sure I need not tell you the rules of the library."

"No ma'am," Harry replied politely. "No food or drink and no loud talking."

She nodded, a slight grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "And do be careful in the Restricted Section. Some of the older books are very…temperamental."

Harry followed the Dark Lord to the Restricted Section, excited to take a closer look at some of the rare books contained there, but something else drew his attention. All around were students of different sizes and ages studying at low tables. Voldemort must have noticed his interest.

"Go and wander Harry. Observe."

Harry nodded and sucked in a deep breath, pooling his courage. The teenagers didn't look very intimidating and he'd been living with the Dark Lord for the past few years, why should he be afraid. Keeping that air of superiority around him like a cocoon he ventured forth, silently daring the children to give him an odd look.

As it was, most of the children were highly engrossed in their studies so most didn't give him any looks, let alone any odd ones. Those that did appeared mildly surprised, but too frightened to say anything. Harry came to the decision that most children were boring and he was lucky to have Voldemort to spend his days with. He wandered to the Restricted Section and found Voldemort diligently perusing the shelves. Harry noticed that all of the books seemed to be behaving themselves while the Dark Lord was near.

"Find anything?" He asked quietly.

Voldemort shook his head. "I need to go and speak with Dumbledore. I have a feeling that he'll have some information for me. Would you like to go with me or stay here?"

"I don't want to stay in a boring old library all day. Can I explore a bit?"

"As long as you're careful," Voldemort stated firmly, "and take Nagini with you. I think she'll be bored with me." He hissed something to the snake and she nodded her head.

Voldemort watched as Harry and Nagini disappeared around the corner. He was sure they'd be fine. Harry was more than a match for most of the younger students at Hogwarts, even without a wand and Nagini was enough to scare even the boldest sixth or seventh year.

"I need to use your office Severus," he commanded as he opened the door to the Headmaster's office.

Snape sputtered for a few seconds before regaining his wits. "Of course My Lord. I only wish you would have told me you were coming so I'd be a bit more prepared."

"What's to prepare?" Voldemort questioned. "The house elves do everything around here. By the way, Harry and I will be staying in my private rooms for a few days. I'll be doing some research in the library."

"And where is Mr. Potter?" Snape gave him a curious look.

Voldemort shrugged. "In the castle somewhere, but don't worry, I sent Nagini off with him. Perhaps you should go and make sure she hasn't bitten any of the students yet. She can be a bit paranoid at times." Without a word Severus rushed from his office.

"Now that we're alone, I need to speak with you." He strolled over to stand in front of Dumbledore's portrait. The old man was giving him a questioning look. "I took Harry to get his wand."

"He's a bit young, isn't he?" Dumbledore interrupted.

Voldemort ignored the question. "The wand didn't work even though Ollivander assured me that the wand is Harry's. You would be interested to know as well that the wand is holly with a phoenix feather core. The feather came from Fawkes."

"Brother wands," gasped Dumbledore. "How curious."

"Yes, isn't it," the Dark Lord agreed, tapping his wand against his thigh. "Ollivander suggested the Harry isn't truly Harry Potter. Really it was as if he didn't even notice the boy was with me until I pointed him out. I know Harry's not too young to use magic; he uses my wand all the time. So what am I missing here?"

"What did Ollivander say exactly?"

"He said the connection is missing something but he hadn't an idea what it might be."

Dumbledore ran a hand over his long white beard. "A connection," he murmured.

"I expect he means the connection Harry should have with his wand."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore shrugged. "It all sounds very ominous."

"I fear," Voldemort stumbled over his words, finding it hard to admit that he feared anything. "I fear that I may have made a mistake when I took Harry. Perhaps things were supposed to work out differently."

"Do you regret not killing him?" Dumbledore asked with a most serious expression on his aged face.

Voldemort shook his head fiercely. "No, I don't regret it. But perhaps Harry was supposed to die that night. What if fate is attempting to take him away from me?"

"I do not think so."

"Then what?"

"Tom, have you ever heard the prophecy in its entirety?"

He shook his head.

Dumbledore sighed. "I supposed it doesn't truly matter if I tell you now. Would you like to hear it?"

Voldemort hesitated for a moment. Did he truly want to hear the prophecy that had sent him to kill Harry? After a few moments thought, he nodded his head and motioned for Dumbledore to proceed.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."

The room seemed to spin around his feet as he absorbed the words. He had been so close to killing Harry and perhaps he'd still have to. The prophecy did say that neither could live while the other survives.

"Does it mean I have to kill him?" He asked, his voice sounding pathetic to his own ears.

"Divination is a sketchy business. By taking Harry instead of attacking him you changed the future."

"I never marked him as my equal."

Dumbledore nodded. "Who knows what would have happened if you would have tried to kill Harry? The prophecy couldn't have been valid yet because you hadn't marked the boy as equal and as far as I know, you still haven't."

"No and I don't even know how I would. But what if that has something to do with Harry's wand not working. The basilisk said something strange as well about Harry's voice being an odd color. She said he's missing a piece of his soul."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers within his frame. "I fear telling you this, but feel that it is more dangerous to allow you to stumble in the dark. There is a room here in Hogwarts that has been kept hidden for hundreds of years."

Voldemort nodded. "I assume you're not speaking of the Room of Requirement. Well, what's special about this certain room?"

"The Room of May Have Been," explained Dumbledore. "There is little information regarding its construction. The only thing I was able to discover was Rowena Ravenclaw came up with the idea and it was she who locked it away after realizing the danger it posed."

"But what does this room do? Why is it so dangerous?"

"It is as the name suggests, a room which shows you what may have been. I have to admit that I used it once in my time as Headmaster, but found it too…disconcerting."

"But does it show you the truth?" Voldemort asked.

Dumbledore shrugged. "Who can know? It shows a person what may have been if a past decision was changed."

"So you're saying that I could walk into this room and it could show me what might have happened if I would have killed Harry?"

The old wizard nodded sagely. "But be aware that you have no hand in events within the room, you may only watch. It can be very difficult to see tragedies happening all around when you have no recourse. Also remember, whatever it shows you, good or bad, cannot be changed. As you know, there is no way to change the past."

"Tell me where I can find this room."

"Are you certain that…"

He cut the former Headmaster off. "Tell me where it is."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "It is here in this room, behind the fireplace. Severus does not know it is there and I ask you not to inform him of the room's existence. I fear what it might do to him."

"Of course," Voldemort agreed before turning toward the fireplace. "How do I enter?"

"Walk into the fireplace with your hand outstretched and ask your question in your mind. Push on the top right stone within the fireplace and the room will do the rest. Remember, you may only change one decision or action and it must be something that you were responsible for. You cannot see what may have been if someone else may have done something differently."

Voldemort nodded, his lips set in a stiff line. It would hurt him to see a world where Harry had died as a babe, but it was something he needed to see. He needed to know what might have been different. Would he be more powerful now if he would have killed the boy then?

He held out his outstretched hand and walked into the fireplace. "I wish to see what may have been if I would have chosen to kill Harry Potter." He reached up slowly and pushed the stone. The world around him disappeared in a swirl of color. When things became clear again he found himself standing in a familiar nursery.

"Avada Kedavra," he heard his own voice hiss malevolently.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for all the reviews and support.**

**In the next chapter: Harry and Nagini have a bit of an adventure while Voldemort sees what may have been if he'd done what he'd originally set out to do, kill Harry Potter.**


	11. Chapter 11

The room exploded in brilliant green light. Voldemort's eyes widened in surprise, he'd never seen a killing curse so powerful. A roar of sound filled the room and he shielded his eyes as the light became even brighter. And then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone, leaving a pile of ash partially covered by a familiar black robe.

Voldemort tried to toe the pile, but discovered his foot was as corporeal as a ghost. A baby cried out from the crib to his left and he stared at in mild shock. It was definitely Harry, alive and well, with a large curse scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt. He had survived the killing curse, a feat supposedly impossible.

The door to the nursery creaked open slowly and the Dark Lord quickly pulled out his wand. Of course he could do nothing to stop whoever was entering, even though he deeply desired to throw a curse once he saw the pathetic piece of garbage that was wiggling its way into the destroyed room.

"My Lord," Pettigrew squeaked, nudging the robe on the floor. The rat's eyes fell on the late Lily Potter and the man let out a howl. "No, not Lily too. Lily and James gone," he whined. "My Lord, where have you gone?" His voice was fearful now, perhaps worried that he would finally be exposed as a traitor.

Pettigrew's role in the death of James and Lily Potter was the same in this world as it had been in reality. If things followed on their course, Sirius Black should be showing up anytime to dispatch with the sniveling waste of space.

Voldemort sneered as the man picked up a long, pale wand from the pile of ashes. "How dare you? Do you think you're fit to touch the wand of the most powerful wizard in…" His voice trailed off, not because he knew Pettigrew couldn't hear him, but because he now had to question whether he was truly the most powerful wizard in the world.

He turned back to look at the crying baby with the lightning bolt scar. Voldemort had never been able to block a killing curse, had never even had the courage to try. But a mere baby had thrown the curse back at him and nearly destroyed a part of his soul. It would take more than that, he thought with a smirk. After all, there are another five parts out in the world.

There was a loud rumbling sound coming from outside and Voldemort was surprised to see what looked like a flying motorbike making its way toward the Potter home. Pettigrew saw it too and he nearly tripped on his robes as he fled. Voldemort squinted his eyes and did his best to make out the dark figure riding on the strange machine.

"James!" A deep voice called out loudly. "Lily!"

Ah, so it is the infamous Sirius Black. The man looked as dark and dangerous as he had those many years ago when Voldemort watched him be lead away by a large group of Dementors. Black hadn't even flinched when those cold hands had touched his skin instead he merely glared at the Dark Lord, eyes full of hate and fury. He'd assumed Voldemort had killed the entire Potter family, including young Harry. Voldemort wondered now how Black had taken it when he'd finally found out the truth of the matter.

A telltale crack of apparition rang out from the front lawn. Then there was another crack and another. Aurors, he assumed, and most likely members of the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore was easiest to spot; Voldemort could see his long white beard reflecting the moonlight. Before he knew what was happening, the Dark Lord found himself standing amongst the Aurors.

"There's no Dark Mark," a young Frank Longbottom exclaimed excitedly, "Maybe James and Lily got away."

Dumbledore shook his head. "We have no way of knowing for sure what happened here until we enter the house. I suggest we stay close together as we enter. Hagrid, can I trust you to make a thorough sweep of the back lawn?"

The giant oaf nodded fiercely and headed off without a word. Voldemort followed him behind the Potter home where Black was preparing to apparate, a wild look in his eyes. Apparently he'd seen what had become of the Potters. He couldn't have made it upstairs though; he must be assuming that Harry is dead as well. And why wouldn't he really? When had Voldemort ever left anyone alive?

"Sirius, where're you headin' off to? Do ya know what happened to James and Lily?"

Black nodded angrily, a look of fury in his dead eyes. "I've got something I need to do Hagrid. Look after my bike, until I get back, will ya?"

Hagrid nodded. "O' course, but where…" With a crack Black was gone and Voldemort knew where he'd gone and what he'd gone to do.

So this part is different, the Dark Lord commented idly as he left Hagrid and popped back to the nursery. In the real word, Sirius Black killed Pettigrew at Godric's Hollow. Messed him up pretty well from what Voldemort could make out from the original Ministry reports.

The world around him changed and he found himself standing next to Dumbledore. The mirror's magic had a strange way of moving him around its imaginary world. Apparently there were certain events it deemed more important then others, or perhaps it was only making those decisions using Voldemort's own thoughts and perceptions.

Dumbledore was looking down at James Potter's still warm corpse. "Poor James," he commented as he ran a hand over the man's face to close his wide, dead eyes. "You put up a good fight."

"He sure did," Frank Longbottom stated fiercely.

His wife Alice saddled up along side him. "There must have been some kind of explosion." She pointed at the stairs. "Those don't look too safe at the moment. Do you suppose Lily's up there? Perhaps she tried to destroy the steps so You-Know-Who couldn't follow her."

Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes betraying his thoughts. "Voldemort wouldn't be stopped by something so minor. I will journey upstairs and see what I can find. Kingsley, can you contact the ministry and have them send someone for James." Kingsley nodded.

The whole group held their breath as a loud cry came from somewhere on the second floor.

"Harry!" The Longbottom woman exclaimed excitedly. "Harry's still alive!" She moved to rush up the stairs but Dumbledore held her back.

"He may not be alone." The old wizard cast a featherlight charm on himself and began to ascend the partially destroyed staircase. He moved slowly, but Voldemort could see the determination in the old man's blue eyes and a secret knowledge.

"What do you know old man?" Voldemort whispered under his breath, wishing that the mirror's magic allowed for Legilimency.

"Lily?" Dumbledore called out loudly before slowly pushing open the door to the nursery. Harry's cries became a loud string of hiccupping coughs as the light from Dumbledore's wand lit the room.

The look in Dumbledore's eyes when he finally noticed the body of Lily Potter was one of extreme sadness, but no surprise. Voldemort could tell that the man had expected all of this to happen and he watched closely as the old wizard lifted Harry from his crib and wiped a finger over the boy's forehead. Dumbledore pulled his hand back quickly as if he'd been burned. "A curse scar," he whispered.

Suddenly the world around Voldemort shifted oddly, apparently the mirror had more important things to show him and he soon found himself standing in Dumbledore's office. The oaf Hagrid held a small babe in his arms as he sniffled into a handkerchief that could double as a tablecloth.

"Poor James and Lily," he wailed. "And Peter! I don't believe it sir. Why would Sirius do a thing like that?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I don't understand it either Hagrid, but Sirius has been taken to Azkaban."

"Without a trial?"

"The Ministry is in shambles at the moment. The Aurors are arresting anyone who might have been in league with Voldemort. I'm hoping to convince them to allow a trial for Sirius at a later date, but emotions are high right now."

Hagrid nodded in understanding. "What about Harry?" He motioned at the sleeping baby in his arms.

"I think it would be best if he were hidden away from the magical world. Lily has a muggle sister living in Surrey, I plan on sending the boy to live there for the time being."

"Harry Potter living with muggles," Hagrid commented, "sounds strange considerin' what he's just done."

"And what has he done Hagrid?" Dumbledore questioned calmly.

"He destroyed You-Know-Who," Hagrid stated fiercely. "The evil git's just a pile of ash now, ain't he?"

"Even if Voldemort has truly been destroyed, we have no way of knowing that it was Harry that is responsible for his downfall. And, even if he is, he is still in danger."

"Death Eaters." Hagrid nodded in understanding. "I'd almost forgot about them. Some o' them are just as evil as You-Know-Who."

"And who knows what they may try now that their master is presumed to be dead," Dumbledore added in a serious tone. "I must ask you to bring Harry to this address." He handed the other man a small slip of parchment. "Minerva has been watching over the family since the incident at the Potter's and I plan on joining her shortly."

The world melted again and Voldemort was standing on a street corner in the dead of night. He pressed a hand on his forehead while trying to catch his bearings. All of this shifting around was starting to give him a headache. Looking around he knew immediately that he was in the muggle world. The houses stood like tombstones, one exactly like the next and the next after that. It was sickening.

The streetlight above his head suddenly went out and he turned quickly. Dumbledore was making his way down the street, a familiar looking stern witch at his side. It was Minerva McGonagall, a woman that existed in Voldemort's reality. If he remembered correctly, she works at the school in the role of Transfiguration Professor and Deputy Headmistress. A powerful witch from Snape's description and one the dour Potions Master has always held in high regard.

"Are you certain you wish to leave the boy with these people? I've watched them all day and they're the worst sort of muggles imaginable," the woman pleaded.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Lily's sister is the last of Harry's family. The child will be safe here."

McGonagall didn't appear convinced. "Who is bringing the boy?"

"Hagrid," Dumbledore said just as the loud roar of a motorcycle could be heard in the distance.

"You trust Hagrid with something so important?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life."

Voldemort snorted loudly at that.

The world shifted again and he found himself in a small, dark room. He marveled at the magic of the mirror. The cupboard was small, yet he could stand without a problem. The mirror had shrunk him to fit.

Voldemort eyed Harry, taking note of the lightning bolt shaped scar that stood out just as much as it had the night it had been branded into the boy's forehead. The boy lay on a rusty old cot, staring at the ceiling with a look of complete despair. The Dark Lord was surprised how different this world's Harry looked from his own. This child was obviously malnourished and abused. A large purple bruise covered Harry's right arm, with a matching one on the left. Just looking at this wretch of a creature made Voldemort want to kill the disgusting muggles.

Then he remembered that these muggles existed in his own world as well. A large smile split his face. There would be hell to pay once he got things sorted with Harry's wand. Not right away though, no, that wouldn't be right. He'd wait until Harry was older and more powerful. He'd wait until Harry was his true equal and then they would go visit these muggles and he would exact revenge for this world's Harry Potter, even if they'd done nothing wrong in the real world.

After all, it's the thought that counts.

**DSz**

Harry turned down another dark corridor, Nagini trailing along on his left. "I think we're lost," he told the snake matter-of-factly. "We've been down this hall twice now." The snake nodded and hissed, but Harry couldn't understand. O, how he wished he could speak Parseltongue.

"Mr. Potter," a cold voice said from behind, causing Harry to start.

He turned to find the Headmaster sneering down at him. "Headmaster Snape," he greeted in a polite tone, shaking away his fear. This man is a Death Eater, he reminded himself, and Voldemort is the master of all Death Eaters. "Perhaps you can assist me. I want to sit in on some classes, which do you think would be most interesting?"

The Headmaster appeared surprised for a moment, but his former aloof expression returned almost immediately. "The Potions classroom is around the next corner. I believe Professor Slughorn has the sixth years brewing Felix Felicis."

"The luck potion, hmmm. That would be interesting."

Severus found himself surprised once again. Surprised that such a young boy would know anything about potions. Actually, everything about the boy was confusing. Nothing about Harry Potter seemed right. The boy didn't act his age and more than that, the boy didn't seem to understand that there was any other way to act. Severus found the whole situation disconcerting and for once in the poor Headmaster's life HE didn't know how to act.

"Professor McGonagall's second year class is transfiguring animal's into water goblets," he continued, watching the boy for any sort of typical reactions.

He was sorely disappointed when the Potter boy grinned and shook his head. "I've already done that and it certainly isn't very difficult. How old are the second years, shouldn't they have learned something like that already?"

"Most of the second year children are twelve or thirteen. May I inquire as to your age Mr. Potter?"

"I'm nearly six and a half," Potter replied proudly, "Although I believe it is considered rude to ask a person's age." Then the boy had the audacity to laugh. "But since you're a very well respected Potions Master and the Headmaster of this school, I'll forgive you this once."

Snape's lips twitched at that, nearly smiling at the boy's odd behavior. He'd never met a child he couldn't intimidate, but really, what could he expect from a child who'd grown up with the Dark Lord. He expected there wasn't much in this world that Harry Potter feared, the large snake coiled around the boy's feet attested to that.

"Perhaps a game of wizard's chess would pass the afternoon," Severus found himself suggesting. He wondered where the idea had come from. Surely he didn't really want to spend time with a six-year old Harry Potter. No, of course that wasn't it. He merely wanted to get closer to his master's protégé, think of the jealous look on Lucius' face. That thought brought a small smile to his lips.

"That might be for the best." The boy rubbed his knees. "My legs are very tired and I could use some tea."

Once again Severus was surprised at the boy's mature tone of voice. "My office is unavailable at the moment, but my private quarters are here in the dungeon." He motioned to a painting of a dark night sky that hung at the end of the corridor. "If that would be acceptable."

The child passed in front of him, Nagini close at his side. Severus wondered, not for the first time, if this was such a good idea. Taking the six-year old protégé of the Dark Lord into his private quarters? The entire situation sounded like the beginning of a Daily Prophet article touting his death. But it was too late, the boy was standing in front of the painting to his private rooms.

"Does it open with a password?"

"Polyjuice," Severus called out loudly and the painting swung inward.

Harry grinned. "A password only a Potions Master could love. I hate Polyjuice. Voldemort and I used it the first few times he took me to Diagon Alley." His face screwed up. "It was absolutely disgusting."

Severus nodded in agreement. "I believe it's the boomslang skin which makes it taste so horrific, but I haven't yet found any ingredient that can mask the flavor and not change the effects of the potion."

"Your rooms are very nice." The boy took a seat on the dark brown settee while Severus fetched his chess set. Nagini slithered over to the fire, making sure to keep her keen eyes on Harry. "I suppose you don't know what Voldemort's up to."

Severus shook his head and began setting up the chessboard. "He only asked for use of my office. I believe he must be speaking with Dumbledore."

Harry cocked his head to the side, studying the Headmaster with familiar green eyes. Eyes that caused a shiver to run down Severus' back. "You knew Dumbledore when he was alive, right?"

"Correct," Severus replied stiffly, "I was a spy in the Order of the Phoenix."

"Voldemort's told me all about them. He said Dumbledore was a really powerful wizard, but sometimes I think he must be exaggerating. What did you think of him?"

It took a moment for Severus to form a response. There were too many memories battling in his mind. "Dumbledore was a very, very powerful wizard, but he chose the losing side."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think he chose anything. Voldemort told me that Dumbledore believed something different then him and that's why Voldemort had to kill him, just like my parents. Did you know them too?"

Once again Severus found himself speechless for a moment or two, but then he realized that the boy was attempting to weasel information about James and Lily Potter. Of course the boy had to ask about the one subject that Severus dearly wanted to avoid.

Playing things on the safe side, Severus asked, "Has the Dark Lord told you anything about what happened to your parents?"

"He told me that he killed them," the boy answered bluntly. "He told me that they fought him and he had to kill them." Harry paused and swallowed past a lump in his throat. "He killed them to get to me, because he wanted to kill me."

Severus nodded and did his best to mask his discomfort at the boy's shocking explanation. "Your parents loved you very much, I know your mother fought to the very end to protect you." He shifted in his seat and eyed the boy carefully. "Does it upset you to talk of them?"

"No." Harry shook his head and reached for his teacup. "I don't remember them at all. Besides, I have Voldemort. I'm sure they're happy for me wherever they are."

Severus cocked his head to one side. The situation was already absurd, but the child's statement cast the conversation into the surreal. "I suppose they would be," he stated with an automatic grin. He felt like the Mad Hatter serving up tea to Alice. But in this case it's the Hatter who is sane while Alice is quite mad.


	12. Chapter 12

The world shifted around Voldemort, flying through events in young Harry's life. The Dark Lord took it all in as best he could while the mirror did its work. Once in awhile time would slow and he'd get a glimpse of Harry performing accidental magic and being punished for it. Really, Harry's childhood in this world was much like his own, but Harry didn't seem as bitter as he had been, instead Harry was despondent and resigned.

That was the worst, seeing his Harry so resigned to such a pitiful fate. Each time the child did something wonderful and amazing, he was called a freak and shunned by his family. And really the child's accidental magic was an amazing thing. Accidental apparition! Voldemort had never heard of such a thing. Then Harry made his hair grow and he wondered if his Harry also has Metamorphmagus abilities.

Events traveled quickly along a straight line for quite awhile, until Harry was nearly eleven, then something happened that left Voldemort dumbfounded. Harry spoke Parseltongue. This world's Harry was a Parselmouth. But how? It must be an ability he gained the night he was hit with the killing curse, but what would cause such a thing to happen, unless…

Suddenly Voldemort understood what Ollivander had meant by a connection. He also knew what the basilisk meant when she said that Harry was missing part of his soul. The night he was supposed to kill the boy, he left a part of his soul behind, effectively making Harry a Horcrux.

What an interesting idea, Voldemort thought as he watched the dark-haired waif converse with a Brazilian python. This world's version of Voldemort must have been very confused to do such a thing, if he even realized what he was doing. To put a part of oneself into a living thing is to give that living thing a small measure of power over oneself. Even as much as he trusted Nagini, when he thought back, making her a horcrux hadn't been on of his best ideas.

Still, if he were to make his Harry a horcrux it would tie them together forever. The connection they would share would be more powerful then any other known to wizardkind. A smirk formed on his lips, he liked the sound of that.

The mirror shifted again and he was standing next to Harry in a large room. Ironically, the Mirror of Erised stood not too far away, a man with a turban stood in front of it.

"You?" Harry questioned. "But I thought Snape…"

"Of course," the man stated snidely, "Who would suspect poor, stuttering Professor Quirrell? Snape was the only one who saw through my act, not that there was anything he could do to stop me." He turned to the Mirror of Erised. "Now tell me how this mirror works. I can see myself holding the stone, but how do I get it."

"Use the boy," a reptilian voice hissed from somewhere in the room.

Voldemort found himself looking around the room as curiously as Harry was, but he didn't see anyone in the shadows.

"Come here boy!"

Harry tried to struggle but Quirrell was too powerful. Slowly the boy made his way to stand in front of the mirror. Obviously Quirrell couldn't see what Harry was seeing, but Voldemort could and he watched as the boy's reflection dropped a familiar looking stone into the boy's pocket and then gave a cocky wink. It was the Philosopher's Stone, a stone that now sat in Voldemort's personal collection of magical artifacts.

"What do you see boy?"

"I see myself standing next to Dumbledore," Harry lied, "He's congratulating me because I've just won the Quidditch cup."

"He lies," the mystery voice hissed.

Harry bolted for the stairs and Voldemort found himself cheering the boy on. "Run Harry," he urged, fingers twitching on his wand, wishing he could do something to help.

"Give me the stone!" Commanded Quirrell.

"Never!" Harry shouted defiantly and Voldemort gave Quirrell a smug look. It seemed this world's Harry wasn't so much different then his own. The boy was strong and courageous, just like his Harry. But his Harry would be even more than this world's Harry because he would have the Dark Lord by his side.

"Let me speak to the boy."

"No master, you are not strong enough," Quirrell stammered.

"Do not defy me," the voice hissed and then Quirrell turned, slowly undoing his turban.

Voldemort took a step back, disgusted by what he was seeing. Harry did the same. A horrible face stared out from the back of Quirrell's head, a face with unique, yet familiar, red eyes.

"No," Voldemort stammered as he backed away from his own perverted reflection. "No, it can't be." But it was confirmed a moment later by the boy.

"Voldemort," Harry spat and the Dark Lord cringed at the way it sounded on the boy's lips.

It was nothing like the way his Harry sighed his name as he held the boy close. It was nothing like the way his Harry cried his name excitedly as they played a game or flew on their brooms. This Harry said his name as if it was something disgusting and horrid and Voldemort couldn't help but turn away.

The world shifted again and he recognized the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. Dumbledore sat next to Harry's bed. Voldemort watched as the two talked. He watched the old wizard pat Harry on the head while feeding the boy lies and it made him sick. Suddenly he knew why Harry was left with his horrible relatives. Harry ate up even the slightest affection directed his way and Dumbledore knew how to manipulate that.

Time sped up again, giving Voldemort a moment to think as thousands of images flew by. So this is how the world would be if he'd tried to kill Harry so many years ago. It was a horrible world where Dumbledore had all of the power and he was reduced to some kind of monster. Worst of all, Dumbledore had Harry. Voldemort felt his magic lash out like a whip as it tried to change events in a world that didn't exist. The mirror world became distorted for a moment before he was able to calm down.

He had to be calm. There was much more to see and all of it was important.

**DSz**

"Checkmate," Severus announced smugly. He waited, wondering if the boy would throw some kind of tantrum, but instead Potter just chuckled.

"You're very good," the boy stated, "Much better than Voldemort. I can actually beat him sometimes."

"Really," Severus stammered, eyes wide.

Harry nodded. "Sure, but it's usually when his mind's on other things." He flashed Severus an evil grin. "Sometimes Nagini helps me by distracting him."

Severus chuckled. "He must certainly have his hands full with you two." The boy gave him a confused look and he realized that Harry didn't understand. Severus cleared his throat. "Ahem…what would you like to do now?"

The boy shrugged. "I'd love to explore the castle but I keep going in circles. You wouldn't happen to have a map, would you?"

Severus stiffened at the boy's question. The man knew it was innocent, but a tiny voice in the back of his head told him this couldn't be a coincidence. How could the boy know that only one map of Hogwarts had ever been created and James Potter had been one of the creators?

"Actually," he said calmly, "I do have a very special map of the school, but it's being used by the Ministry Aurors right now."

Harry gave him a questioning look. "Why?"

Severus cleared his throat. "The map shows not only the school grounds, but it also shows who is currently on school grounds. A criminal is on the loose and there has been some worry that he may come to Hogwarts."

The boy's eyes widened. "Wow, what'd he do?"

"That is none of your concern," Severus stammered, "And nothing to give a second thought. The man would be insane to step one foot on Hogwarts' grounds, as the Headmaster I know the instant anyone steps foot past the gate."

"Really?" Harry asked. "Do you know where they go and everything?" Severus nodded. "Do you know where Voldemort is now?"

Severus closed his eyes, searching out his Lord's magical signature, but the powerful wizard seemed to be blocking him at the moment. "Not right now." He shook his head. "The Dark Lord must be in the middle of something very important."

Harry nodded in agreement and bit his lip, thinking back to his wand and the reason for their visit to the school. "Do you like to fly?"

"I'm afraid not Mr. Potter," Severus chuckled. "I've never been very good on a broom. If I want to fly, I usually do so this way." His body melted away, leaving a large bat in its place. He flapped his large wings a few times before transforming back.

The boy clapped his hands wildly. "That was excellent! Can you teach me how to do that?"

Severus laughed. "Being an animagus is not something easily learned. I didn't perfect my form until I was well out of school. It takes a very firm grasp of transfiguration."

Harry's brow knitted. "Do you have any books on it? I'd love to get a head start. Maybe if I start learning now it won't take as long for me."

"I believe I do have a few old texts regarding Animagi. Hmmm, let me see." He crossed the room to his large bookshelf, pulling off three large tomes. "Here we are. Read this one first." He handed over the smallest of the three to the boy. "It will give you a good foundation before moving on."

"Thanks so much Professor!"

Severus watched in fascination as the boy took the books and laid them on the coffee table. With a wave of his hand, Harry shrunk the first book to the size of a thimble, and then proceeded to do the same to the other two. Severus couldn't believe what he'd just seen.

"Wandless magic," he whispered under his breath.

"Huh?"

"Nothing," Severus replied with a smile, "If you'd like to do some flying, I can accompany you to the Quidditch pitch."

"But I didn't bring my broom. Do you have one I can borrow?"

"Do not fret. The school as a very large collection of brooms in the shed by the Quidditch pitch, I'm sure we can find one that will suit you." In the back of his mind he wondered if the boy needed a child's broom, but didn't have the nerve to ask the question aloud.

"Thank you Professor," Harry responded happily.

Half way to the Entrance Hall, a second-year Slytherin came running toward them. "Headmaster! Headmaster!"

Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes. "What can I help you with, Mr. Nott?"

"Headmaster," the small, blonde boy panted, "There's a fire in the common room!"

"What?!"

"I don't know what happened," Nott stated, "Some of the older students were practicing spells and a tapestry caught fire!"

Severus turned to the small boy next to him. "I will have to leave you here Mr. Potter. I'm sure you can find your way to the Quidditch pitch."

"Of course, Professor Snape. Nagini and I will be fine."

Harry watched the dark-haired man run off after the boy in the school uniform, wondering why anyone would set fire to a tapestry. He cocked his head to the side as he thought about such a situation. Perhaps if someone truly hated a tapestry they might want to burn it away.

"Come on Nagini, let's find the pitch."

The large snake let out a hiss and slithered along beside him as he made his way down the corridor. The halls were empty, so he assumed that most of the students were still in classes. The Quidditch pitch though, was not empty.

A group of older children in red uniforms flew swiftly across the pitch, tossing a quaffle back and forth. Two held beater bats and Harry knew they must be practicing Quidditch. A school team then, he decided, taking a seat in the stands to watch the large forms zip through the sky. The children looked as if they were having a lot of fun and Harry wondered if school wasn't so bad after all. He nibbled on his bottom lip as he thought about having so many playmates. But Voldemort wouldn't be here and he would probably feel alone.

Nagini hissed beside him in warning and he looked up just in time to see a bludger heading straight for his head. He dropped to his belly and the ball bounced off the bench behind him before zooming back toward the players.

"Hey there kid, you okay?" A deep voice called out warily.

Harry looked up at the tall redhead floating off to his right. "I'm okay." He pushed up from the bench and shook the dirt off his robes.

"You look a little small to be a first-year," the boy stammered, eyeing Nagini nervously. "Do your parents know you're out here?"

"I don't have any parents," Harry explained.

The boy flew down and sat. "Who are you here visiting then? Got a brother or sister here at Hogwarts?"

Harry grinned. "I'm here with my friend Voldemort," he continued to explain, not noticing when the redhead cringed at the Dark Lord's name. "He needed to take care of some things, so I thought I'd do a bit of flying, but it looks like the pitch is taken."

"Oi, is that Harry Potter!" A new voice called out and Harry looked up to see another redhead slowly flying his way.

The first boy's eyes widened to the size of saucers, as he looked Harry up and down. Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. Suddenly, as if realizing how rudely he was acting, a wide smile broke out on the older boy's face and he held out a large hand.

"I'm Bill Weasley," the boy stated, "The horrible looking creature sitting off to your left is my younger brother Charles." He shook Harry's hand firmly.

"It's Charlie!" The other boy shouted angrily. "You better watch it or I'll start calling you William."

Bill just shrugged which seemed to make his brother even more upset. Charlie flew at his brother and Bill batted him away with his broom. Harry chuckled into his hands at the boy's antics.

"So young Harry," Bill said and put an arm around the boy chummily. "Why don't you come flying with us? We're in the market for a new Seeker and you look about the right size."

"Oi!" Charlie exclaimed. "Are you sure it's not a new beater we need? What with the way you almost clobbered poor Harry here."

Bill ignored his brother and motioned for Harry to take a seat on his broom. "I'll fly you down to the broom shed and we can find one that will fit you. Do you have a kid's broom at home?"

Harry just stared at him for a moment before laughing loudly.

"Did I say something funny?"

Harry shook his head. "No," he said, catching his breath, "I don't even know what a kid's broom would look like. I've got a Nimbus 85 at home."

"A Nimbus 85!" Charlie wailed unhappily. "With a broom like that you probably could take my position."

All three boys laughed as they headed down to the broom shed. Harry didn't know why, but he liked Bill and Charlie. There was something about the older boys that made him feel safe.

As Bill helped him pick out a broom, Harry noticed little differences in the way this boy treated him compared to the way he was usually treated by Voldemort. The Dark Lord was his friend and mentor, but he'd never looked at him with the same eyes that Bill looked at him and he'd never cuffed him on the chin like Charlie. These boys even spoke to him differently then he'd ever been spoken to before. Their language seemed to be different then the language Harry was used to. Bill and Charlie used slang and lots of short, clipped sentences, sometimes Harry had trouble understanding what they were even talking about.

Harry found himself following Bill's directions without even asking why. And when he finally caught the snitch and Bill looked at him with shining pride, Harry felt a small, unfamiliar ache well up inside his stomach. It was a strange feeling that he'd never felt before.

Suddenly it wasn't Bill's bright, blue eyes looking at him with pride. It was a pair of warm, hazel eyes hidden behind large, round spectacles. For a moment Harry hung in the air, overrun by emotion, but he willed the eyes away and replaced them with eyes the color of crimson.

"Alright there Harry?" Charlie questioned as he flew over to the small boy.

Harry grinned. "Of course. Let's play another game."

**DSz**

A gasp escaped him as he watched Harry run a sword through Ethelinda. What kind of world is this? What kind of world sends a child to slay a monster? He watched Harry stumble to the body of little Ginny Weasley. He watched the boy lift the basilisk fang and drive it through the diary.

For a moment Voldemort almost thought part of his soul had actually been destroyed. A strange ache welled up in the pit of his stomach. It must be my mind playing tricks on me, he thought. This world has no bearing on the real world.

"You're safe Ginny, it's okay," Harry tried to console the distraught girl.

The Chamber disappeared and he was suddenly standing next to a much older Harry. Voldemort looked around the Great Hall, eyes coming to rest on a familiar looking goblet, the Goblet of Fire. So they have the Tri-wizard tournament in this world as well, he commented to himself.

Dumbledore began to read off names and somehow Voldemort knew what the last name would be. "Harry Potter!" The old coot shouted loudly.

Whispers ran through the surrounding mob. "But he's only fourteen," "He must have cheated," "He's a cheat," it was all quite sickening. Surely Dumbledore didn't expect a fourteen-year old to compete in the Tri-wizard tournament, the very idea was mad.

But Voldemort watched as Harry fought his way through task after task, only to be thwarted in the end. Then he watched as this world's Dark Lord Voldemort rose up from nothing to become a freakish ghoul. Looking at this monster standing in front of him, this monster brandishing his wand and hurting his Harry, he suddenly understood.

The mirror seemed to understand as well, because he was pushed ahead until he was in Dumbledore's office watching Harry as the boy threw a tantrum. That's when the old man finally told the boy and Voldemort heard the prophecy again.

Time sped up and he was following Harry into the Forbidden Forest. Around them was chaos, but Harry walked sure and strong, his Invisibility cloak pulled firmly over his head. Voldemort felt the tug that Harry felt in his heart as he passed Ginny Weasley and Voldemort understood that Harry knew he'd never see the girl again. The Dark Lord had seen everything that Harry had seen and knew everything that Harry knew, that's how he understood his boy was on a death march. Harry knew he was going to die.

That's when another understanding hit Voldemort and he clutched at his chest. There was an ache there as if it was physically hurting him to watch Harry walk to his destruction. He understood now that he could never kill Harry, he understood now what power the boy had that he knew not. He understood…because he knew it now.

Without thinking he reached out to hold this weathered and beaten creature that was still his boy, his Harry, but his arms slipped through the boy's body. He looked down at his arms, wishing to hold his Harry, to hold him close and tell him…tell him what he knows.

Suddenly the air rushed around him and Voldemort found himself lying on the floor of Snape's office. He pushed up from the ground and spelled the dust off his robes, glad to feel the familiar tingle of magic run through his wand.

"Did you find anything out?" Dumbledore questioned from his portrait, looking at the man curiously.

Voldemort nodded his head, steadying himself on the Headmaster's desk. "The prophecy can never come true, it has been nullified," he stated assuredly.

"But how do you know? Prophecies can be tricky things."

"I know," he paused and pressed a hand on his head, it felt as if it would split. "I know the power that Harry possesses."

"The power the Dark Lord knows not," Dumbledore recited in a whisper.

"I know." He repeated. "I need to...I need to find Harry."

"But what about the connection!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "What about Harry's wand?"

"I'll think of something," the dark wizard snapped before rushing from the room.

Dumbledore watched Voldemort go with a twinkle in his eye. He would not tell Tom the truth, even though he was sure that in the back of the man's mind, Tom knew. The prophecy hadn't been nullified, it had come to fruition.

**DSz**

Harry flew down to the stands as he heard the Dark Lord calling his name.

"Voldemort," he exclaimed happily, "I've been playing Quidditch with Bill and Charlie." He motioned up to the two boy's hovering uneasily above.

A look of confusion crossed his face as Voldemort grasped Harry's hand. "I need you to come with me."

Harry nodded and didn't argue. "Where are we going?" He questioned as he hurried to keep up with the man's long strides. When they got to the end of the pitch, Voldemort hefted Harry up on his hip before continuing on. "The forest?" He asked, becoming more and more confused, but Voldemort didn't speak. Instead he stopped just inside the forest and slowly lowered Harry to the ground before kneeling down to look in the boy's eyes.

"Harry, I need to tell you something."

"Okay," Harry said anxiously. What would Voldemort have to tell him that he couldn't do at the castle?

Voldemort's arms encircled the boy and he pulled Harry close. "I love you," he whispered softly and Harry gasped, having never heard him say it before.

"I love you too," Harry returned, wrapping his small arms around Voldemort's neck. A contented sigh escaped him as pleasant warmth enveloped them both.

**DSZ**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: For those of you who were hoping for Voldemort to see every moment of canon Harry's life, sorry. The Harry Potter books have already been written and we've all read them, so I certainly don't need to rewrite them here.**

**Sorry this update is so long in coming, but I was in Toronto and then I brought a nasty bug back with me and I've been trying to get over it for a few weeks. But I think I'm finally getting better now :) I apologize too for typos and such. I read everything twice before uploading it but I'm sure I don't catch everything.**

**Lots of other "life" things are going on right now so I don't know how often I'll be able to update. I could get so much more writing done if work and life didn't get in the way...**


	13. Chapter 13

The night air had become quite cool and Nancy Fallow drew her shawl tight around her narrow shoulders. A nasty cough tore through her chest, sending her into fits. It wasn't the first time it had happened in the last few weeks, but it was getting worse and she'd finally decided to make an appointment to see a Healer the next day. Since the Dark Lord and Harry were off at Hogwarts, her absence surely wouldn't be missed.

"Is there anything ma'am needs from Nellie?"

Nancy turned to the house-elf and smiled. She'd always felt more akin to the strange creatures than most people. "A few more logs on the fire to keep the cold out if you please."

Nellie snapped her fingers and the fire grew instantly. "Will the mistress be needing anything else from Nellie?"

She shook her head. "No, that will be all. Thank you so much."

The house-elf's eyes crinkled and her mouth turned into a strange, sad little smile. "Miss Fallow always be treating Nellie so kindly." Then the little elf popped away.

Nancy sighed as the warmth from the fire filled the large sitting room. She could go up to her bedroom where it was probably even warmer, but something about the sitting room always cheered her spirits. Perhaps it was the echo of laughter that seemed to permeate the place. Every object and piece of furniture held memories of her Lord and little Harry. Those memories made her heart swell.

It had been so long ago since she'd met young Tom Riddle. Of course she'd also known Tom Riddle Sr., the bastard that he was, but she'd only heard rumors of his illegitimate son. Until the day he'd come upon her by the edge of the river.

She'd been crying that day and was surprised to look up and see a young man staring at her from the other side of the bank. She'd recognized him immediately of course, with his slight resemblance to his father, but she'd been surprised to see him so close to the Riddle property. He was such a beautiful sight to behold, almost as if he was a moving statue. He appeared to be the same age as she, but his eyes were so much older and wiser.

"You should be off now," she'd snapped at him, "Before your father comes 'round and sees you here."

Young Tom Riddle had just stood and stared, watching her with the most curious eyes. "You're a squib, did you know that? I can see the faintest traces of magic around you."

She had shaken her head wildly, yelling, "No, that's not true!" Even though she'd known he was right. She'd known ever since that night her parents had abandoned her on the streets of London when she was only eight.

Ten days after her first impromptu meeting with Tom, she was down at the river again. Young Tom seemed to know she would be there, because not a minute after she'd collapsed on the bank, he was standing nearby, watching her. What a sight she must have made with her torn dress and a bruise covering her cheek.

"Has he hurt you again?" Tom had asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she'd stammered defensively. But she could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew and it made her feel sick and angry. "Stop looking at me like that! Stop looking in my head!" Then she had run off from fear.

Five days later, Tom Riddle Sr. was dead. Two days after that, young Tom Riddle came to her little cottage in the dead of night wearing a cloak and a mask. He'd asked her to come away and leave the muggle world behind. She'd said yes even though she hadn't known anything about him other than the fact that he was a murderer, but it didn't matter because he had saved her from such a wretched existence. No longer did she have to be a slave and a whore to a rich bastard.

After living with Tom for only a month she'd gone willingly to his bed. She'd believed herself in love with him, and he in love with her, but their worlds were so far separated that she knew it couldn't last. It became worse as time went by and she seemed to get older while he barely aged at all. She still loved him of course, and he held some fondness for her, but that was all it was…fondness.

The fire flared high in the grate again and Nancy turned to give a sleepy smile to Nellie. Dreams of the past danced in her head as her eyes slowly closed and her breathing became shallow.

**DSz**

Harry stared across the large Hall with wide eyes. The Great Hall was a sight to behold when it was empty, but now, filled with children, it seemed even more amazing. At every table children talked and laughed, some even cried, it was so interesting and curious.

"Those are the two boys I flew with this afternoon," he mentioned to Voldemort, pointing out Bill and Charlie Weasley. The two redheads seemed uncomfortable being pointed out, but they smiled and waved just the same.

"Hmmm…Weasley's, yes, I know the Weasley family," the older man commented, "They're a very old pureblood family with many children."

"Really?" Harry questioned, "More than just two?" From what he'd read, most pureblood families didn't have many children.

"There are seven children in the Weasley family," the Headmaster stated. "I believe Bill is the oldest, with Charlie two years behind and then there are five more at home."

"Wow! That's good isn't it, for a pureblood family to have so many children?"

Voldemort nodded. "It is and I've tried to promote that ever since I came to power. Although some of the older families are afraid to change a system that's been around for so long. Each family receives money from the Ministry for each child they have past one and if they adopt a muggle-born they receive even more."

"Then the Weasley's must be rich."

Severus snorted loudly from the other side of the Dark Lord. "Children have many needs and I expect having seven of them can put quite a strain on a wizard's coin purse." Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress, chuckled into her water goblet and Voldemort had to fight the grin rising on his own face. "O, you know what I was trying to say," Snape huffed.

Harry gave each a confused look. "I don't understand."

"It's nothing Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall chuckled, "Just a little joke between the Headmaster and I."

Harry cocked his head to the side and gave the dark-haired man a questioning look. "Is that why you don't have children then?"

"What?" Severus blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Because it would put a strain on your coin purse?" Harry added innocently, causing all of the adults to laugh even more.

Voldemort finally calmed himself and patted Harry on the shoulder. "I'll explain later," he assured the boy, but Harry wasn't paying attention, he was staring blankly at the two Weasley children.

"I wonder what it would be like to have so many children around," Harry wondered aloud, "Bill and Charlie are awfully nice. I had a lot of fun flying with them."

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed and Severus had the intelligence to look away. "Do not be fooled by their kindness Harry. The Weasley family fought on the side of Dumbledore during the Great War."

Harry's eyes widened. "Really? But they're purebloods, why would they fight against you when you only want to help purebloods."

Voldemort was at a loss for a moment. "Harry, we talked about Dumbledore and the people who fought on his side, do you remember?" The boy nodded studiously. "And do you remember why Dumbledore was fighting against me?"

"He wanted to give muggles access to the wizarding world," Harry replied, "Dumbledore thought that muggles and wizards could live together in peace."

Voldemort nodded. "That's exactly right. The Weasley's also believed that muggles and wizards should live side-by-side." It was a bit of a stretch on the truth, but the Dark Lord didn't care. He wanted to make sure that Harry understood just how 'evil' the Weasley family could be. "Arthur Weasley was even caught with muggle artifacts, many of them highly illegal even under the old Ministry's rules."

"But Bill and Charlie seem really nice," Harry broke in, a slight tone of confusion in his small voice.

"Remember when I talked to you about how sometimes people act really nice when they want something from you."

"Do you think that's why they were nice to me?"

"Who knows," Voldemort shrugged. "But the whole family has reason to hate me and they could try to hurt you to get to me." Harry shivered in his seat. "But I would never let that happen Harry," he assured the boy. McGonagall gave him a dirty look but he brushed it aside.

Harry smiled at him, that tiny, shy smile that made Voldemort want to smile back. He would never do that in front of so many people though so he merely ruffled the boy's hair.

"Now eat your dinner. I thought we'd go into the forest and look for unicorns tonight."

"Really?!" Harry exclaimed.

"Of course," Voldemort replied calmly. "I also have some other business to take care of with the Centaurs, but that shouldn't take long."

The Dark Lord watched Harry dutifully shovel peas into his mouth. It was an odd feeling, this love that he felt for the boy, but not unwelcome. He'd always thought love changed a person, made them do things they wouldn't normally do, that sort of thing. Obviously this wasn't true in his case. He could still lie to the boy with ease and feel no guilt. Harry would someday be his equal, but for now the boy looked to him to explain the world around them.

It would be a world of his making, just as Harry would be the man of his making.

**DSz**

Nancy Fallow woke from a deep sleep with a headache and a throat full of phlegm. She thanked all that was magical that she'd finally come to her senses and made an appointment with a Healer. The weather would only get colder and this sickness she'd contracted wasn't getting any better.

"Would Miss Fallow be needing anything from Nellie?"

"No thank you," she replied to the house-elf as she rose to prepare herself for the day. "On second thought, take my brown traveling cloak from the hall closet and hang it by the door, the thick one with the fur collar."

"Of course ma'am." With a snap the elf was gone.

There were two portkeys laid out for her trip. One would take her to Godric's Hollow and the other would bring her back home. They were special portkeys made for her by Voldemort himself and they would only work when held in her hand, with a special password that only Voldemort and she knew.

Godric's Hollow was bright and lively. Many shops were preparing for Halloween and she slowed her steps to look at the wonderful displays. Bathilda Bagshot waved at her as she passed the woman's house and Nancy waved back.

"Good morning Nancy!" Bathilda greeted happily. "Come for some shopping?"

Nancy shook her head. "No, 'fraid not. I've come to see Larson down the street."

"O, nothing too bad I hope?"

She shook her head again and grinned. "Just a virus or some other such rubbish."

Bathilda pursed her lips. "What have I told you? You shouldn't be running around muggle London. Who knows what those muggles are covered with, they're all so dirty!"

"I know, but it's the fastest way to Mayfair Lane."

The old woman rolled her eyes. "That place," she snorted. "Nothing but over-priced wares and shoddy potions' ingredients."

"I know, but there's a chocolate shop there and it sells the most heavenly sweets. You know how the boys love sweets."

"Only you would call the Dark Lord a 'boy'," Bathilda laughed heartily.

Nancy checked her watch. "I best be off or I'll be late."

"Well, good luck to you then. Hope it all comes out okay. Tell Larson good day for me and tell him to keep his children away from my rose bushes." She put her hands on her hips and Nancy couldn't help but smile.

"I'll do that," she agreed. "Good day!"

In better spirits then she'd been before her stop at Bathilda's, she entered Healer Larson's small office. The young, blonde witch at the front desk gave her a wide smile and Nancy smiled widely in return.

"Appointment for Nancy Fallow at nine."

The witch checked a long piece of parchment on the desk in front of her. "Let's see, Fallow, Fallow, Fallow, there you are." She looked up, smile still in place. "Please take a seat and Healer Larson will be with you shortly. You may hang your cloak by the door if you wish."

Nancy hung her cloak on one of the free hooks and took a seat in one of the large, comfortable armchairs in the waiting room. A stack of magazines lay on the table to her right and she browsed through them absent-mindedly. She chuckled quietly as she noticed an old magazine from last Christmas.

On the cover was a picture of Voldemort carrying Harry. The caption underneath asked readers 'What would you give Voldemort and Harry for Christmas?' Inside was a collection of letters from readers, each one lamenting on how lonely the Dark Lord and his protégé must be around the holidays and each writer had many suggestions as to the perfect gifts for the pair. The one that really made her grin was one man's suggestion that Harry should have a snake of his own. O wouldn't Nagini love that, as if the great snake isn't jealous enough as it is!

"Miss Fallow," a deep voice called out.

Nancy looked up sheepishly, stashing the magazine back under the pile. "Healer Larson," she greeted as she stood. The man shook her hand lightly and directed her to a smaller room down the hall.

"Please take a seat," he gestured at the small, raised bed in the middle of the room. She sat down nervously and straightened her robes. The Healer rolled a stool over and sat in front of her, his wand raised. "So Miss Fallow, tell me what kind of symptoms you've been having and when these symptoms started."

She shifted on the bed sheepishly as he started running some basic scans. "I've been having headaches and a very bad cough, with a lot of phlegm. I've also seem to tire faster than I used to, but I am getting older…"

He eyed her a moment before asking again. "And how long has this been going on?"

"About two months," she replied in a tiny voice. "I thought it might go away on its own."

Healer Larson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Miss Fallow, it is very important that you see a Healer immediately when you're having any sort of health problems. That's what we're here for."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother." He rolled his eyes. "Now, you are a squib, correct?"

She nodded. "That's not a problem is it? It's never been a problem before."

"It could be if you come into contact with muggles."

"I try not to very often, but sometimes I take a muggle train to get to Mayfair Lane. You know, that new shopping center in London?"

"Yes, I've heard of it," he nodded. "I hate to say it, but this complicates things greatly. As a squib, you are much more at risk of contracting muggle diseases and viruses."

"So you can't help me then?"

He shook his head. "My scans show that there is a sickness in your lungs, but it is not magical and I cannot identify exactly what it is. If I can't identify it, then I can't treat it."

Tears sprung up in Nancy's eyes. "Can you recommend another Healer?"

"I'm afraid I can't, but I would recommend you see a muggle doctor. I know how unsavory that idea is, but I think it is the only way you will get a proper diagnosis."

"I should have stayed out of London," she blurted out, feeling a bit of hysterics coming on. "My Lord warned me and I didn't listen. He's going to be so angry with me." She twisted her robes around her fingers. "I can't see a muggle doctor," she stated with haunted, damp eyes. "I won't go back to that world." In her mind she could see herself lying in a muggle hospital, alone…forgotten…

The streets of Godric's Hollow didn't seem so bright and cheery as she walked from the Healer's office. She steered clear of Bathilda's house so she wouldn't be forced to paste a fake smile on her face.

She fingered the letter opener in her pocket, the portkey home. It was such a small thing, but it made her cry when she looked at it. It was the letter opener that Voldemort always used to open the owl post every morning. The stupid little thing brought back so many memories. She wiped her eyes and shook her head, doing her best to will away the ache in her chest.

"Dutiful Dementors," she whispered, noticing a tugging on the back of her cloak at the same moment she felt the hook behind her navel. "Merlin's beard!" She exclaimed as she landed outside the castle gate and turned to see a large, black dog with its teeth clamped firmly on her good winter cloak. "You drop that this instant!" She shouted.

Surprisingly the mangy looking dog did as it was told, dropping the fabric between its teeth. It lay down and scooted away, whining loudly, looking at her with gigantic, yellow puppy dog eyes that she just couldn't resist. Putting any intelligent thought aside, she reached out and patted the dog on its dirty furred head.

"You're lucky Voldemort isn't here," she stated and the dog's whining seemed to grow louder. "Now, now, none of that. No feeling sorry for yourself. Let's get you inside and get you cleaned up."

Nancy knew she shouldn't bring the dog into the castle. Nancy knew that Voldemort would most likely be very angry. But at the moment Nancy didn't care. This mangy mutt took her mind off her own problems. It was a much needed diversion in a stressful time and she didn't care what Voldemort would say. Besides, she knew Harry would love having a dog and Voldemort would never say no to Harry.

She led the black dog toward the downstairs toilet by the scruff of its neck. "What shall we call you then?" She gave the mutt a questioning look but the dog ignored her in favor of sniffing their surroundings. "You're very black, so why not Blacky. Yes, that's a good name for a big, black dog like you. Isn't it Blacky?" The dog barked. "I'm certain Harry will fall in love with you, boys do love dogs. We just need to get you cleaned and trimmed."

Blacky's tongue lolled out as he looked up at her with a wide doggy grin.


	14. Chapter 14

Voldemort put his feet up on Snape's immaculate desk, a large pile of parchment on his lap. He sighed as he flipped through the pages, each filled from top to bottom with scrawled sentences. It was Snape's end-of-month report and, as usual, it was as long-winded and wordy as a textbook.

"I do not see young Mr. Potter with you," Dumbledore commented from his portrait.

"You wouldn't," Voldemort mumbled without looking up, "He's off with Severus. They've taken quite a liking to one another. Strange really."

He could almost hear Dumbledore's grin. "I wouldn't say it was strange. Severus doesn't take a liking to many children, but he may see a bit of Lily in the boy."

Voldemort looked up from the parchment he'd been reading. "Yes, that's probably it."

"And you have no problem with the two becoming close."

"Close," he snorted. "You really think Severus Snape would let anyone, even a child, close to him? I think not. But he keeps Harry occupied while I'm indisposed, so I have no problem with the two spending time together. They should be back soon though, I'm taking Harry into the forest tonight."

"The forest!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "Why would you do such a thing?"

A catlike grin formed on the Dark Lord's face and he felt a wave of satisfaction pass over him at the way it made the old man shiver in his frame. "I told Harry I'd take him to see the unicorns."

"But why wouldn't you go during the day? Surely the forest is too dangerous at night."

"Dangerous? Nowhere in the world is dangerous for me and as long as Harry is with me, no place is dangerous for him either."

"But I still don't understand why…"

"And you won't," Voldemort sneered. "Unless I explain it to you. Would you like me to explain exactly why I'm taking Harry to see the unicorns?" He paused and waited for Dumbledore's nod.

"You see, when I was in the Room of May Have Been," he began to explain. "I was shown something amazing. If I would have attempted to kill Harry, I may have inadvertently created another horcrux. That horcrux would have been Harry."

"That is the connection that is missing," Voldemort continued, the excitement in his voice growing, "That's what the basilisk meant when she said that Harry is missing a piece of his soul. He's not missing a piece of his soul, he's missing a piece of mine."

Dumbledore was shaking his head now, a truly horrified look upon his face. "No, you can't mean that you're going to make Harry into a horcrux. That you would even consider turning a child into a dark artifact…" His voice trailed off and he continued to shake his head.

"That's exactly what I'm saying old man," Voldemort confirmed. "You know what it takes to make a horcrux."

"Murder."

Voldemort nodded. "Exactly. I must commit murder to split my soul, but for Harry I'm planning something special. He won't be the same as the other horcruxes I've created."

The former Headmaster gave him a confused look. "I don't understand Tom."

"Of course you don't," he sneered. "Because you're so light that you can't see the beauty of the dark. I'm sure you thought that I would never love, but I do love and you have no idea the lengths I would go for that love. I am immortal and I don't plan on living out eternity alone."

Dumbledore gasped. "You wouldn't!"

"I would." The Dark Lord laughed as he stood. "I would and I'm going to." He strolled toward Dumbledore's portrait, eyes fiery and bright. "To transfer a piece of my soul to Harry, I don't plan on killing a person. I plan on killing a unicorn."

"No Tom, you can't. You know the consequences of killing a unicorn. If you go through with your plan then Harry will be tainted for the rest of his life."

"Tainted," he hissed. "Tainted just like I am tainted. Then he will truly be my equal."

"Please Tom," Dumbledore begged tearfully. "Please do not do this."

Voldemort sneered. "You're pathetic. No wonder you lost the war."

**DSz**

"There you are," Nancy Fallow chirped as she ran a thick, fluffy towel over the large black dog. "Look at your nice, shiny coat."

The dog let out an excited yip; it's tongue lolling out in the most adorable way. Nancy found herself unable to resist such a sight and she motioned the dog to follow her to the kitchens.

"I think we'll have a nice roast for dinner tonight," she commented as they walked, "Would you like that?" Another excited yip escaped the animal as his tail wagged back and forth.

A soft pop echoed through the kitchen. "Would Miss Fallow be needing Nellie's help?" The friendly house-elf asked as she appeared from nowhere.

"Hello Nellie, look what I've brought home." Nancy motioned to the dog. "I've decided to call him Blacky. Don't you think young Master Harry will just love him?"

The house-elf gave the dog a strange look before a wide smile broke out on her wrinkled face. "Nellie thinks the Mistress is correct, the young master will truly love him."

**DSz**

Severus Snape stalked through the darkened corridors, stopping every so often to pry apart young lovers in various coat closets and empty classrooms. His usual intimidating and frightening air was dampened somewhat by the small child jogging along at his side. But the large snake slithering along in their wake was enough to give any student nightmares.

"Mr. Mason and Miss Bulstrode," he sneered at the two fifth year students. "May I inquire as to why you are both standing in this darkened corridor, rather than inside your common room?"

"I…well, you see…it's like this…" The Mason boy stammered.

"Enough," Severus spat angrily, "I am severely disappointed in the both of you. A Slytherin and a Ravenclaw?" He shook his head. "I would expect this type of behavior from Gryffindors or even Hufflepuffs. Twenty-five points from both houses and detention next Saturday."

"But sir, it's Hogsmeade weekend," the girl complained.

"O, is it? I seem to have forgotten, but thank you for reminding me," he stated in an apologetic tone. "Make that detention Saturday AND Sunday. Now get out of my sight." He watched the pair rush away, before allowing a smirk to form on his thin lips. A soft chuckling drew his attention downward and he was surprised to see Harry's green eyes full of mirth.

"That was excellent!" Harry exclaimed. "And I thought Miss Fallow was scary when she's mad!"

Severus offered the boy his most sinister smile. "You haven't seen me mad. That, my young friend, was just doing my job. If I would have truly been angry, who knows what might have happened." He let the comment hang and Harry shivered.

"I'll remember that," the boy stated assuredly. "I wonder what's taking Voldemort so long."

The two began slowly walking down the darkened corridor. Nagini hissed softly and turned to the right.

"It looks like Nagini has found more troublemakers," Severus stated. "I'm sure the Dark Lord is reading my reports and I do make them quite detailed."

"That's means they're really long, right?"

"It's important that the Dark Lord know everything that goes on here at Hogwarts. I want to make sure he knows how grateful I am he appointed me Headmaster."

Harry looked up at the paintings and suits of armor. "You really love this place, don't you?"

Severus nodded. "It was my first real home."

"That's what Voldemort says too," Harry replied nervously. "I suppose it's not too bad of place. Not everyone can be trained by a Dark Lord after all."

"Quite right," he chuckled and then patted the boy on the shoulder. "Now, let's go scare a few more. By the excited look in Nagini's eyes, I belive she's found a few first-years. This should be fun."

dsz

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm sorry this update has taken so long and I'm sorry it's so short, but I've been very busy. My fiance and I moved to a house across town on the same weekend that my company moved. Since I handle network and desktop support, I had to put in a lot of long hours. I'm still busy at work, but things at home have settled, so I should be able to start updating more often again. Thank you for your kind reviews. I'm glad that someone is reading and enjoying what I'm writing. It really means a lot.**


	15. Chapter 15

Voldemort glided through the forest, little Harry settled on his hip. The boy was shivering with excitement, his large, green eyes taking in the sight of shadowed trees and dark shapes. After a moment they finally came to a clearing and Voldemort lowered the boy to the ground.

"I think I saw a werewolf," Harry exclaimed excitedly, "and a Dementor too. Are there Dementors in this forest? Can you talk to Dementors? Can I talk to a Dementor?"

Voldemort smiled down at the boy. "Calm down Harry. There are no werewolves in this forest, they all live on the reserve. There could be a few Dementors floating around though, I'll have to check on that. Why in Merlin's name would you want to talk to one?" He gave the child a confused look.

"Why not," Harry shrugged. "Dementors are so creepy looking." Another shiver ran through his small form.

Voldemort rolled his eyes. "Come take a seat. I need to discuss something with you." He sat down on a large rock and motioned for Harry to sit on his lap.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, of course not," he replied, crimson eyes serious. "Harry, do you know what immortal means?"

Harry nodded. "It means never dying, right? Someone's immortal if they live forever."

"Yes, that's exactly what it means."

"Are you immortal?" Harry questioned excitedly. "That's wicked!"

"I am," Voldemort stated with a smile. "I have taken steps to ensure that I will never die. That means that after everyone else in the world dies, I'll still be here." Harry fidgeted in his lap.

"Even after I die?" The boy asked.

Voldemort nodded sadly. "Yes Harry, even after you're dead, I'll still live on. Imagine how lonely I'll be with my only friend gone."

"I don't want you to be lonely."

"And I don't want to be lonely," Voldemort stated assuredly. "But what if…what if we could do something to make you immortal too?"

Harry's eyes looked at him in confusion. "But what could we do? Is there a spell or something? Will it hurt?"

"Yes, there is a spell, but I'm not sure if it will hurt. If it does, it will only hurt for a moment. But think of it Harry, think of all we could do when we have forever to do it."

"We could ride dragons!"

"Yes, I suppose we could," Voldemort stammered.

"We could talk to every Dementor in the world! We could swim with mermaids!"

Voldemort laughed. "We could take over the world!" He exclaimed, joining Harry's excitement.

The boy fell silent for a moment and Voldemort felt his hair stand on end. A breeze rustled through a pile of leaves nearby and for a split-second the world fell away. Harry, his little Harry, looked up at him with unfamiliar, hardened green eyes.

"We could you know," the boy stated in a very serious tone, "We could take over the world."

Voldemort was shocked at Harry's strange demeanor.

A twig cracking off to their right drew both their attentions away from the odd moment. Voldemort could feel Harry stiffen in his arms as a beautiful, white unicorn slowly stepped into the clearing. He looked down at the child in his lap with surprise. He thought he'd have to perform a spell to summon the creature, but Harry's innocence must have drawn it to the clearing.

"Close your eyes," he whispered into Harry's ear, before pointing his wand at the mythical beast standing only a few feet away. "It will only hurt for a moment."

At Hogwarts the bell in the clock tower began to toll midnight and Voldemort's heart skipped a beat. Without warning his mind was cast back to that night in Godric's Hollow, when his wand had been directed at a small baby in a crib. That night, the hall clock had chimed twelve times as well. Was fate trying to tell him something?

It was too late to stop, the killing curse was already traveling over his lips and a green light formed at the tip of his wand. Then Harry cried out in fear, calling out a name that Voldemort had never heard him call out before.

"Tom!"

**dSz**

Harry could see the green light through his eyelids. It was a horrible light that scared him for reasons that he couldn't understand. A dreadful, sickening feeling welled up in his stomach and he had to cry out.

"Tom!" He wailed. Shouting a name that he'd never used before, but felt right for some unknown reason.

The green light didn't go away though, instead it became brighter and he tried to turn away, burying his face in Voldemort's robes. A burst of red, a flash of pain and then there was darkness, but he had the odd feeling that he wasn't truly alone in the dark. Something was moving through it, something with a familiar taste and smell. It seemed to be looking for an empty spot to settle, so Harry called out to it, asking it to come closer.

And it did move closer, and closer, and closer, until Harry felt it would gobble him up and there would be nothing left, nothing but the dark thing. It didn't eat him though, instead it seemed to slip away into a crevice and then he couldn't see it anymore, even though he still felt it inside. Now it felt like just another arm or leg, like he'd had it all along.

**DSz**

Voldemort's eyes widened in surprise as a burst of fire appeared in the space between his wand and the unicorn. It was a phoenix and as the killing curse sped across the clearing, the mythical bird took the full force of the spell, while the unicorn turned and galloped away. He felt a piece of his soul tear away, pouring into Harry, filling that missing space. The boy stiffened before falling into unconsciousness. He hugged the small body close.

"O Harry," he whispered, "Please forgive me."

He lifted the boy with ease and stepped closer to the dead phoenix. It was Fawkes, Dumbledore's former familiar. He'd recognize the bird anywhere. The phoenix was most definitely dead, which surprised him since he'd seen Fawkes survive his killing curse before.

A sly grin split his features. Of course, his killing curse was more powerful now then it was when he'd fought Dumbledore. Every day he was becoming more powerful and now Harry would share in that power. He grinned down at the boy's pale face. They would make quite a pair, quite a pair indeed.

The clomping of hooves interrupted on this most perfect moment and Voldemort sneered in disgust. Centaurs. He'd forgotten they were still living in the forest.

"Stay back beasts," he commanded forcefully, turning his crimson eyes on the three male centaurs standing off to his right. "What business do you have here?"

"This is our forest," stated the large, blonde centaur standing out in front, causing Voldemort's lip to curl. "What business do YOU have here?"

He turned to face the centaurs fully, Harry still secure against his chest. "This remains your forest only because I allow it to be so."

Suddenly it was if a light went on in the blonde centaurs head. He immediately bowed low, the other two centaurs following suit. "I'm very sorry, My Lord. I did not expect to see you here. We felt the stirring of dark magic and came to investigate."

"And now you've investigated, so move along."

The blonde centaur, and the male centaur to his right, quickly bowed and galloped away, but an older, gray-haired centaur stayed behind. He approached slowly, stopping only a few feet away. Voldemort was surprised by this centaur's brashness, so he allowed the beast to live a bit longer.

"Do you have something to say old one?" The Dark Lord questioned.

"My name is Balios and I have lived for many hundreds of years." The old centaur's voice was gruff and haggard. "In all of my time in this world, I have never seen the death of a phoenix. It is a most powerful omen."

"Of good or bad?" Voldemort asked, becoming curious.

Balios shrugged. "Of this, I do not know. But I can say that you are reaching into places that only the gods have touched." He pointed a gnarled hand at the small figure in the Dark Lord's arms. "And it is he who opens to the way. You must be very careful, he is your power and your weakness."

With that, the old centaur turned and bounded away. Moving so swiftly, that Voldemort could have swore the animal was as young as the centaurs he traveled with.

Voldemort looked down at Harry, watching as the small boy's chest moved up and down. So fragile, so small, so easily destroyed. He clutched the child tighter, so tight in fact, that Harry let out a small moan.

He knew the centaur was right. Harry could make him powerful, but the boy would also be a weakness. Until Harry is older and stronger, he'd have to be watched and kept safe. If anyone were to take him…Voldemort shook his head. He couldn't think about that now. There was too much to do.

The night birds sang softly in the trees as Voldemort made his way back to the school. He'd allow Harry to rest there for the night and then they would be on their way back home in the morning. The security of his castle would do them both good.

**DSz**

Lucius Malfoy stalked down the halls, on his way to an office that he rarely visited. There was a good reason he never visited this certain office. Actually there were a few good reasons, but as he opened the door to this certain office, the most obvious reason was staring him right in the face.

"Lord Malfoy, please have a seat."

Malfoy sneered down at the grinning face of Arthur Weasley, feeling a certain amount of satisfaction when the redhead twitched. The blonde had the urge to lunge at the man, just to see if he'd fall over dead in shock, but decided to restrain himself…for now.

"What do you have for me Weasley? The Unspeakables seem to be upset over some piece of muggle trash, care to explain?"

Weasley nodded, his expression growing serious. "This is what they're talking about." He motioned to a strange looking collar sitting on his desk.

"It's just a metal collar."

"Yes, it is that," he stated, "but it's also something more. This is what muggles call a bark collar; they put it on dogs to keep them from barking. When the dog barks it sends out a small electric shock, conditioning the dog so it will no longer bark."

"And so," Lucius waved his hand lazily, urging the man to spit it out finally.

"And so, we raided a warehouse in Diagon Alley and found at least ten crates full of these things. But worse then that, we also found plans. It seems whoever brought these into the magical world has been experimenting with them."

Lucius gave him a confused look. "But why? A wizard can just spell a dog to stop barking, why use a muggle collar?"

Weasley gave him a pained look. "I'd like to show you something, if you'll follow me. This could be very important."

Lucius rolled his eyes, but motioned for the man to lead the way. He followed Arthur to the lifts and grew even more confused when the man pushed the button for Child Services.

"I thought this was about dog collars. Why are we headed to the Child Services office?"

"Because this isn't about dogs, it's about children."

The lift dropped them off on floor three and Lucius allowed Arthur to lead the way. They passed a few waiting rooms, before coming to a door marked 'Ministry Employees Only'. Now Lucius was starting to get nervous. He began to push the door open, but was stopped by Arthur's hand on his shoulder.

"This may be a little upsetting," he stated warily.

"O please Weasley," Lucius sneered. "Remember exactly who you're talking to before you speak. Now let's get on with it." He pushed open the door and followed Arthur as he made a left down an unfamiliar hallway. "I don't remember this."

"You wouldn't, we had to build it to house them." He motioned to a window separating them from a large room full of children.

Lucius watched the children as they played. Most of them looked to be between the ages of eight and ten. None looked hurt or malnourished. They all seemed happy and healthy.

"What is this about Weasley? I don't have time for…"

"They're magicless," Arthur stated sadly.

"What?! Then what are they doing here?!"

Arthur shook his head. "Let me explain. They're magicless now, but they weren't born that way. Each of these children had shown early signs of magic, all of them are on the list for Hogwarts enrollment when they turn eleven."

"But, you just said they're magicless. Which is it Weasley?"

"We found these children in that warehouse. Each of them had one of those collars around their neck. We brought them here, took off the collars and ran the usual scans. Each child's test came back marked squib," explained Arthur. "The Unspeakables have been testing the collars. It appears that someone has modified them and was using them to condition children. Basically, each time magic escaped a child, the collar around his or her neck would give out a shock."

"Great Merlin," Lucius whispered as he stared at the large group of children beyond the glass. "Is there any way to reverse this, to recondition them somehow?"

Arthur shook his head sadly. "We've tried everything, but they're no more then muggles now. We can only guess that their magic tried to fight the collar and in turn the collar kept shocking them until they had no magic left. The Unspeakables are working on a solution, but from the papers we found at the warehouse it doesn't seem that the people who did this wanted there to be any way to return the children's magic."

A most desperate feeling swept over Lucius as a little blonde boy, who looked so much like his own Draco, turned to the window and waved. He couldn't help it; he waved back and gave the tiny little boy a small smile.

"There are so many who would wish us harm," Lucius commented aloud, "So many who hate the Dark Lord, but why would they harm the innocent? Why would they harm the children?"

Arthur shook his head, his eyes shadowed. "If you want to truly hurt a parent, then you hurt their child. I could handle any torture to keep my children safe."

"We must find these criminals and put a stop to this," Lucius stated harshly. "We'll have to destroy all of the notes and any evidence that this ever happened. If other groups found out about this…"

Arthur nodded. "The muggle-born resistance groups might be behind this and if they aren't, they'd love to get their hands on this. They've been driven so far underground, I'm sure they're getting quite desperate."

Lucius' stomach lurched as he thought about having to tell his Lord about this new conspiracy. With Black still on the loose, this would just compound the image of incompetence the Dark Lord may already have of his time as Minister. He'd have to tell the man though, if only to protect his Lord's young protégé.

"Will you tell him?" Arthur questioned suddenly.

Lucius nodded tightly. "I have to. He needs to know so he can keep young Potter safe."

"About that." The redhead rubbed his neck nervously. "We did find something at the warehouse that was a bit troubling."

"And what would that be?" Asked Lucius.

The other man reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of newspaper. He unfolded it and handed it to Lucius, who immediately recognized it as the front page of The Daily Prophet. There stood the Dark Lord, a sly grin upon his face, shifting once in awhile to give the group of photographers around him a better chance at a picture. On his hip sat Harry Potter, smiling shyly, making the perfect picture of innocence and youth.

It wasn't the picture that set Lucius' teeth on edge. It was the large, red circle drawn around little Harry's head.


	16. Chapter 16

The door to Snape's office opened with a bang as Voldemort stalked in, Harry carried limply in his arms. Snape looked up in surprise and quickly stood. From the look on the Dark Lord's face, he could tell things had not gone as planned.

"Severus," Voldemort hissed, "Take Harry to my quarters and stay with him. Give him no potions except a Calming Draught if he awakens." Severus bowed and walked over quickly to take the boy. "Be careful, he is fragile at the moment."

Severus bowed once more and very slowly removed the boy from Voldemort. "I will take good care of him, My Lord." And as Snape looked down at the boy's pale face, he knew that he meant what he said. The boy had come to mean something to him. Just what, he wasn't yet sure.

Voldemort watched the stoic man move through the secret door to his private quarters. Once the door closed, he moved quickly to stand in front of Dumbledore's portrait.

"Dumbledore," he greeted with an angry hiss, "Even in death you are still a meddlesome fool."

Dumbledore merely stared at him, an expression of complete innocence on his face. "Why Tom, I am merely a portrait. How can I meddle in anything?"

A large, sinister smile split Voldemort's face and Dumbledore's serene expression faltered. "You overplayed your hand this time, old man. It didn't work!" He laughed loudly, something he usually reserved for times alone with Harry. "Your phoenix is dead!" He reveled in the feeling of satisfaction that washed through him at the horrified look in the old fool's eyes.

"No." Dumbledore spoke so softly that Voldemort could hardly hear him. "No, it can't be."

"You sent Fawkes to his death and my plan was still successful." Voldemort scratched his chin. "I wonder what affect that had on the magic."

"And Harry, is he well?" Dumbledore questioned weakly.

Voldemort shrugged. "As well as can be expected. You saw what condition he is in now. I suspect it will take a few days for him to recover."

"And if he doesn't recover?" Dumbledore asked and a dark glare was the only reply. "I hope you understand the risks you take with young Mr. Potter. Perhaps he will not appreciate it when he is older and understands exactly what you've made him."

"O, but he will understand. He'll understand because I will explain it and I'll explain why. I'm not going to coddle him, I never have and I never will. Did Severus tell you that I even explained why I killed his parents?"

"You told him that you killed James and Lily? You told him and he's not bothered by it?"

Voldemort chuckled at the surprised look on the old man's weathered face. "Of course he's not bothered by it. He doesn't even remember them, so why would it bother him? The only family he's ever known is Miss Fallow and the only friend he's ever had is me, and to him, that's much better then memories of two people who are cold in the ground."

"You took his memories!" Dumbledore accused.

"And if I did?" Voldemort questioned, spreading his arms out wide. "Will you strike me down Dumbledore? Perhaps you don't understand. Yes, I'm quite sure you don't. You are a painting and I am the ruler of wizarding Britain. And eventually, with Harry's help, I will rise to the level of god."

"You go to far," Dumbledore whispered in a pained voice.

"And you never went far enough," Voldemort replied matter-of-factly, before sweeping out of the room.

**DSz**

Severus glanced worriedly at the small figure lying comatose on Voldemort's large bed. Harry looked so small among the pillows and blankets. He worried his bottom lip as he stared at the boy's chest. Shaking his head, he turned away. If the Dark Lord wasn't worried about the boy, then surely he shouldn't be either.

"How is Harry?" Voldemort questioned as he strode toward the bed.

Severus looked up, surprised that he hadn't heard the man enter the room. "He appears quite distressed, but he hasn't woken. My Lord…I don't wish to be impertinent…"

"But you're worried about the boy," Voldemort stated, finished Severus' thought. He laid a pale hand gently on the Harry's forehead. "It's alright Severus, I know you care about him and I believe I even understand why you care."

"You do?"

Voldemort nodded, his eyes never leaving Harry's face. "Yes, but if I tried to explain, you wouldn't understand." He turned to look at Severus, red eyes deep and knowledgeable. "I want you to care for him Severus, as he gets older, he will need more protection. In this, I can only trust you Severus, no one else."

"My Lord," Severus sputtered, "Surely you have other followers that…"

Voldemort held up a hand. "No Severus, there is no one else."

Severus bowed his head and clasped his hands behind his back. Embarrassingly enough, he felt a slight heat rise in his cheeks. Before he could embarrass himself further, he turned away.

"I will be returning home tomorrow, but I may need potions for Harry over the next few days." Severus heard the Dark Lord's robes rustle, as if he were pulling something from a very deep pocket. "Take this."

Severus turned to find Voldemort holding out a small dagger. He took it without question.

"If I send for you, cut your hand with that dagger and it will bring you to my castle. A small knick on any finger will do." Voldemort clapped him on the shoulder. "You have earned this, my friend. The only other Death Eater with access to my castle is Lucius."

Severus bowed and then slipped the dagger into an inside pocket. "I am honored by your trust, My Lord."

"I know," Voldemort stated sincerely, "and that is why you deserve it. Now go. You have a school to run. I will stay with Harry."

Once the man was gone, Voldemort lay down on the bed and merely stared at his young charge. He thought he'd feel some uncertainty about his actions, much like he had that night he went to Godric's Hollow, but this time there was none. Even though he had no idea what would happen next, he knew he'd taken the correct course. The world would open for them now and there was nothing to stop them.

He took one of Harry's tiny hands into his own, the old centaur's words repeating in his mind. Harry was the way to greatness, a fact Voldemort had known for quite some time.

**DSz**

"Keep up Weasley," Lucius hissed angrily. "There are many dark creatures lingering about in the forest and I have no problem leaving you behind."

Arthur nearly tripped over his feet as he attempted to keep up. "Are you certain that I should have come with you? Won't the Dark Lord be angry?"

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Of course he'll be angry. He'll be angry with this whole great mess, which is why I brought you along. Why would our Lord curse me when he has a perfectly good Weasley at his disposal?"

Arthur remained silent after that, allowing Lucius to lead the way to the castle door. He swallowed hard as Lucius knocked. If Molly knew he was here she'd be irate. Actually, if she ever finds out…

"Straighten your robes Weasley," Lucius commanded, "We're here to see the Dark Lord, not your pub friends."

Arthur grimaced, but did what he was told, too nervous to argue with the snotty aristocrat. His breath caught in his throat as the door began to open. He released it with a soft sigh when a kind looking woman came into view.

"Lord Malfoy," she greeted politely, "It is good to see you again. But who is this you've brought with you?" Her voice had a wary tone, as if it was a bad thing that Arthur was standing on the Dark Lord's front step.

"Miss Fallow," Lucius greeted smoothly, "Please allow me to introduce Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Weasley," she greeted, her tone polite, but still a bit wary. "If you've come to see the Dark Lord, I'm afraid he's out at the moment. I just got word now that he won't be back until tomorrow."

Lucius' brow furrowed slightly. "This could be a problem," he mulled.

"What could be?" Arthur questioned nervously.

"We have no way to get back," he explained. "I have no portkey and the anti-apparition wards here are much too strong to break through. It looks like we'll have to spend the night, if it wouldn't be too much of a bother."

Miss Fallow's eyes lit up. "No bother, no bother. Please, come right in. This old place gets quite lonely when the boys are out."

"Boys?" Arthur mouthed silently at Lucius and the blonde fought down a grin.

The sound of barking caught everyone's attention. Lucius and Arthur both pulled their wands as a large black dog came racing around the corner.

"Don't worry, that's just Blacky," Miss Fallow explained as the mutt stopped at her feet, tongue lolling happily. "He likes to sneak into the kitchens and our house-elves love to chase him out. It's become quite the game."

Arthur stared at the black dog, his heart beating hard against his chest. The dog looked up at him with familiar eyes.

"Shall we have supper now or would you like to wait?" Questioned Miss Fallow.

"I cannot speak for Arthur, but I am quite famished."

They both looked to Arthur and he fought to regain his composure. "Yes," he stammered, "That sounds just fine."

Miss Fallow clapped her hands together. "Perfect. Let me show you to the sitting room and then I'll go to the kitchens and inform the house-elves."

Lucius moved to walk next to Miss Fallow, questioning her about the castle and weaseling for information regarding the Dark Lord and his protégé. Arthur lagged behind, the large black dog close at his side. When the other two turned the corner, he quickly bent down and grabbed the mutt by the scruff of the neck.

"Bad dog," he whispered. He tried to sound stern, but he couldn't keep a small grin from forming on his lips. "I hope you know what you're doing." The dog yipped and wagged its tail forcefully. Arthur rolled his eyes. "What am I thinking, of course you don't."


	17. Chapter 17

The bedroom was incredibly dark and Voldemort wondered why the house-elves had allowed the fire to burn itself out. With a huff he stood and pulled out his wand, whispering a Lumos so as not to wake Harry. He held the light high above his head and squinted into the darkness. Still unable to see anything, he poured more magic through his wand causing the light to grow.

And still there was nothing.

A strange gray halo hung around the light from his wand and beyond that there was only dark. He quickly turned toward the bed, reaching with his free hand, but once again found nothing.

"Severus!" He called out, but heard no reply. "Harry!" Still no reply. For a moment he wondered if he'd suddenly gone blind, but that couldn't be. He could still see himself; it was the rest of the world that had gone missing.

Hesitantly he took a step forward, having the odd feeling that he was standing at the edge of an abyss. He took another step and stopped to listen for any noises that might give him a clue as to where he was. There was no sound. Even his steps made no noise.

Spells and curses raced through his mind. Surely there was some kind of magic that could help him, but nothing came to mind. He poured more magic into his wand and the light grew to an unearthly brightness. A slight movement just at the edge of the light caught his attention and he took a step forward.

"Is someone there?" He questioned loudly.

He aimed his wand out in front of him only to have the light reflected back into his eyes. Thoroughly confused now, he slowly continued on, finally coming to a stop when he saw familiar red eyes staring into his own.

"A mirror," Voldemort chuckled as he stared at his own reflection. It was a mirror he recognized from his days at Hogwarts, the Mirror of Erised.

Standing directly in front of the mirror, he stared at his reflection with great curiosity. When he'd been in school the mirror had shown him his heart's desire and for the most part, it had all come true. He was immortal and powerful, just as he'd always wished.

He stared at his reflection, watching in horror as his face began to morph into something hideous. His eyes became slitted like a snake and his skin as pale and white as tissue paper. The reflection grinned evilly at him and he took a step back. The reflection took a step forward, and then another and another. Voldemort held out his hand, readying himself to cast wandless magic if need be since his wand was needed to keep the light.

"What's wrong?" His reflection questioned sarcastically. "This is what you truly desire."

"No," Voldemort stated assuredly. "Never."

"But why? I can show you power beyond your wildest dreams. The world will truly fear your wrath."

Voldemort halted his retreat and stood straight. "I already have power. I am already feared. There is nothing you can offer me."

The reflection hissed angrily, reminding him of Nagini when she was angry. "You've grown soft. You are no longer feared as you once were."

That caused him to pause for a moment. Perhaps his reflection was correct. There was a time when witches and wizards shook with fear at the mere sound of his name. But that was before he killed Dumbledore and took over the Ministry of Magic.

"I no longer need to be so feared," he argued. "I'm a ruler now. I only wish for respect."

"Respect," his reflection growled angrily, "What good is respect? Will respect keep them from rising up against you?"

Voldemort shook his head. "This is not real. You are not real."

"But this is what you desire," the reflection said in a seductive tone. "True power, true evil… Kill the boy and no one can stand against you. He is the only one who can destroy you. Neither can live, while the other survives."

"No!" Voldemort shouted while casting a blasting curse.

The curse flew straight through the apparition and then it was gone and Voldemort was left staring at his true reflection. A hand suddenly appeared on his shoulder and he turned quickly, but there was no one there.

He turned back to the mirror and noticed the hand again. It was a man's hand and it shook his shoulder.

"Voldemort," a voice called out, "Voldemort."

Voldemort's eyes opened and then immediately snapped shut. There was a blinding light just on the other side of his eyelids and a howling wind rushed past his ears. A horrible feeling ran through him and his heart beat loudly in his chest.

"Nightmare?" An unfamiliar voice questioned softly.

He opened one eye slightly to see a blurry figure standing over him. "What? Who…"

"Let me help you up." A hand shot out and he took it gratefully.

"Harry?" He asked the question even though he already knew the answer. Somehow he knew where he was and what had happened, but at the same time, didn't know.

"Of course, who else would it be?"

Voldemort was finally able to open his eyes and look upon his surroundings. It wasn't a pretty sight. He seemed to be standing in the middle of a desolate plain with a few pathetic looking trees and bushes dotting the horizon. To his right stood a man that he didn't know, but did at the same time. It was an older, stronger version of his Harry.

"Harry, what has happened? Where are we?"

Harry shrugged. "I apparated us here last night. I'm surprised you don't recognize it." Voldemort gave him a questioning look. "I was feeling nostalgic so I took us back to Hogwarts…or I suppose I should say where Hogwarts once stood."

The Dark Lord's jaw fell open and his eyes widened in surprise. "But how? Why?"

"You're just full of questions, aren't you?"

Memories assaulted Voldemort's mind and he attempted to use Occlumency to make some sense of all the images and feelings rushing through him. There was fire and fighting and horrible screams.

"It all burned to the ground, all of it," he gasped.

Harry nodded sagely and then, to Voldemort's great horror, the boy burst into flames. "O, it looks like it's my burning day." The man laughed while his skin turned black. His grin fell away as his skin flaked off to fly in the wind.

"Harry! NO!"

Voldemort sat up with a start, a hand over his chest as he tried to catch his breath. It took him a moment to realize that his left side was quite hot.

"Harry!"

It was just like the dream, except this was real and a little boy lay next to him instead of a man. Still Harry burned just as he had in the dream, flames licking at his small body from head to toe. But the boy didn't turn black and his skin didn't melt away.

"Severus!" Voldemort shouted loudly, knowing that the man was most likely still working in his office. "Severus, get in here!"

The door flew open and Severus stalked toward the bed. His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. Voldemort was standing next to the bed, which was now on fire, and Harry Potter lay in the dead center of the flames. The Dark Lord pulled out his wand and began casting spell after spell, trying anything and everything to put the fire out.

"It's magical," Snape stated assuredly, "Cast at the bed and keep the fire from spreading."

Voldemort nodded and together the men brought the fire under control.

"I think this may have something to do with the phoenix," Voldemort contemplated aloud. "Perhaps Harry is having his own 'Burning Day' now."

The fire continued to dance around the boy, but Harry showed no signs of distress. Both men stood watch and both wondered when the fire would finally subside. And also, what would be left of Harry Potter once it did?

**DSz**

The sitting room wasn't overly warm, but still Arthur could feel tiny beads of sweat forming at the back of his neck. The past hours had been nerve-wracking. Not that Miss Fallow was anything less than an excellent host, but they had come to give the Dark Lord a bit of bad news. A task, which Arthur had to admit, he truly wasn't looking forward to carrying out.

"If you could have a house-elf show me to one of the guest bedrooms, I would be very grateful." Malfoy stood and attempted a convincing yawn.

It didn't fool Arthur though; he knew the man was merely excusing himself to snoop around the castle. It seemed Miss Fallow could sense the man's intentions as well.

"Of course Lord Malfoy," the woman replied kindly, "Nellie will show you to your room. I would advise that you call for her in the morning so she may lead you to the dining room. The castle can be a very dangerous place if one doesn't know their way around its dark halls."

Malfoy smile faltered for a moment before he nodded curtly at the woman and followed the elf out the door. Arthur smiled nervously from across the room, doing his best not to give to much notice to the way Sirius' tail wagged as Miss Fallow stroked the dog between the ears.

"Charming man," she stated in a sarcastic tone causing Arthur to nearly spit his Firewhiskey across the room. "Sorry about that."

Arthur waved off the apology. "Just wasn't expecting it, that's all." He paused to give the woman a curious look. "You're not the kind of person I expected to find here."

Miss Fallow's smile became knowing. "I can just imagine what you expected to find here. Torture chambers of some sort, I'm sure and trolls standing guard at every entrance, something like that?"

"Yes, something like that," Arthur replied with a grin, feeling more comfortable now. "I don't know if you realize who I am…"

"Arthur Weasley, patriarch of the Weasley family. Labeled as a blood-traitor, you were one of the few from the Order of the Phoenix spared from death due to your pureblood status." She paused to sip her tea. "You have seven children, six boys and one girl, a feat which has garnered you a bit of begrudging respect from certain circles."

Arthur scoffed at that. "I highly doubt that."

The corners of Miss Fallow's eyes wrinkled as she laughed. "Well I certainly have a great amount of respect for anyone who can handle seven children. One is quite enough work, thank you very much."

His ears perked up at her comment. "How is young Mr. Potter doing?" He questioned, attempting to keep himself from sounding too curious. It might be considered suspicious.

"Harry's doing very fine," Miss Fallow replied with a faraway look. "He's a mischief maker though, that's for certain. And when the two of them get together." She waved her hand in front of her face and shook her head.

"The two of them?" Arthur asked in confusion.

"The Dark Lord," she clarified. "The two of them get into all kinds of trouble. I swear he would let Harry fly to the moon on a dragon if the boy got it in his mind to try."

Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are you saying that the Dark Lord…I…I don't understand."

"Most people wouldn't." She patted the big, black dog lying at her side. Arthur rolled his eyes slightly when he noticed Sirius had fallen asleep. "Tell me about your children Arthur."

Like any proud father, Arthur was happy to discuss his children's' triumphs and troubles. He told her all about Bill's rebelliousness and Charlie's obsession with dragons. She laughed heartily when he spoke of his twins and their love of pranks. There was a warm smile on her face when he bragged of his son Percy and how the boy always cleaned his room and did his chores without complaint.

"Ron is about Harry's age," he stated, "A bit of a troublemaker, but I believe he just wants the attention."

"With so many brothers its no wonder he'd feel left out," Miss Fallow commented. "And your daughter?"

"She's a year younger than Ron. That one's a real firecracker." Arthur grinned. "Anytime her brothers are up to something, she's right there in the mix."

Miss Fallow stretched her arms out in front of her and leaned back in her chair. "How wonderful," she sighed. "A house full of children." Her faced suddenly took on a distressed expression and she doubled over.

"Miss Fallow!" Arthur exclaimed. "Miss Fallow, are you alright?"

Arthur stood to go to her, but she held a hand out to stop him. Harsh coughing escaped her, causing her whole body to shake and her eyes to water. Nellie, the castle's head elf, appeared with a large glass of water. The elf stood next to Miss Fallow with a pained expression on its aged face, but remained quiet until the coughing subsided.

"Mistress, Nellie has brought you water." The elf held out the glass and Miss Fallow took it with shaky hands.

"Thank you Nellie," she said gratefully and took a small sip of water. "That will be all." The elf disappeared with a snap.

"Miss Fallow, are you alright?"

She nodded. "I am now. I'm very sorry about that. I've been a bit under the weather lately." Sirius let out a loud whine. "Yes, yes, I know what you think about the matter."

"How long have you been sick?"

She lost her composure for a moment. "For quite awhile, but nothing can be done."

"Surely a Healer could help you?"

"I've already been to a Healer," she explained, "and he couldn't help. You see Mr. Weasley, I'm a squib, which means I'm susceptible to muggle illnesses."

"Then a muggle doctor could help," suggested Arthur. "I know a few hospitals where they wouldn't ask questions."

She shook her head. "No, it's too late," she stated assuredly. A deep sadness welled in her eyes. "It's much too late," she reiterated.

**DSz**

Harry looked up at the familiar castle and felt a wave of relief rush through him. Home, he was finally home. Without thinking, he rushed inside and immediately began looking for Miss Fallow.

"Miss Fallow!" He called out. "We're home, Miss Fallow!" There was no response, so he kept right on searching. Perhaps she was in one of the rooms and couldn't hear him.

He raced toward the sitting room, Miss Fallow's favorite room of the castle, but skidded to a stop before opening the door. He looked to his left and to his right, and then looked behind him. Voldemort was nowhere to be found. He tried his best to remember how he'd gotten back to the castle, but could only remember Voldemort taking him into the forest.

A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach and with great hesitance he pushed open the sitting room door, smiling at the sight that greeted him. Voldemort stood by the fireplace, a familiar sly grin on his face.

"Voldemort," Harry gasped with relief. "I couldn't find you."

Voldemort laughed heartily and lowered to one knee. Harry ran without hesitation to his outstretched arms, sighing as those arms wrapped him up in a fierce hold.

"I'll always be right here," Voldemort stated assuredly and squeezed him tighter.

A loud squawk drew both their attention. A beautiful golden bird flew over their heads and Harry stared at in awe. Voldemort's hold grew even tighter and suddenly he felt as if he could no longer breathe.

"You're hurting me," Harry whined, struggling weakly.

Voldemort's grip didn't waver and when Harry looked up at the man he saw a strange expression on the man's face, one he'd never seen before. The Dark Lord looked afraid.

"Are you scared of that bird?" He questioned in confusion.

"It means to keep me away from you." Voldemort looked down at him with wild eyes. "Don't let it Harry, please don't let it burn me away."

The bird swooped lower and lower. Harry could feel heat coming from the strange creature and he bit his lip worriedly. Surely a bird couldn't burn someone up, could it?

Suddenly the bird let out a shriek and landed on the Dark Lord's back. Voldemort's face contorted as it dug its claws through his robes and into his skin. Harry watched in horror as the bird burst into odd colored flames. He tried to push away from the fire, but Voldemort held him fast.

"Don't let it burn me away," the man pleaded as the flames made their way over his robes.

"I don't want to be burned!" Harry shouted as he struggled against the Dark Lord's grip. "How can I stop it? What spell can stop it? What can I do?"

"Stay with me."

"But it will burn me too."

Voldemort shook his head. "No, it will only burn me."

"Why?"

"It wants to keep us apart. Don't let it Harry! Don't let it keep us apart!"

The Dark Lord was acting in a way Harry had never experienced before. Usually it was Harry counting on Voldemort to keep him safe, but now Voldemort was counting on him and he wouldn't let the man down.

"I won't let you go," Harry stated stubbornly. "Go away you stupid bird," he growled and glared at the flaming bird. "Go away and leave us alone."

The flames licked at his face, but he didn't back away. Even when the fire engulfed them both and he could feel the heat of it, he still didn't back away and he didn't let go. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on the feel of his magic thrumming in time with Voldemort's own. The Dark Lord let out a low keening noise and Harry scooted as close to the man as possible.

"Can you feel my magic?" Harry shouted over the roaring flames.

"Yes," Voldemort gasped, his voice tinged with pain.

"Think about that," Harry urged, "Don't think about the fire, just feel my magic." The fire grew higher and Harry was now burning along with the Dark Lord.

Voldemort's eyes flew wide and he attempted to push Harry away, but Harry wouldn't budge. "Go Harry," he urged. "I was wrong, it's going to burn us both."

"I won't leave you!"

"It will destroy us both!"

Harry shook his head before burying it further into the man's chest. "I'm not letting it take you away from me. I won't let anything take you away from me."

"Wake up Harry!" A voice shouted in the distance.

"Wake up Harry!" Voldemort repeated.

"What?" He asked in confusion.

"Wake up Harry!"

The fire disappeared and his eyes opened wide. He looked around him and realized that he was no longer in the sitting room at the castle. Instead, he seemed to be in the Dark Lord's private quarters at Hogwarts and for some reason he was sleeping on a bed that had been burned black. The charred blankets caused Harry to shiver in fear.

"Harry," Voldemort sighed in relief.

Harry watched him cross the room and wondered if he was still dreaming.

"What happened?" He asked in concern. "Why are we in the school? We were just in the forest, weren't we?"

Voldemort slowly sat down next to him on the bed. "I did a spell in the forest and it didn't go quite as planned."

"What kind of spell?" Harry's brow furrowed.

"One that will bind us together forever," Voldemort explained. "Now I'll always be with you and nothing can keep us apart."

Harry sat up and cautiously reached out to the man. Voldemort immediately lifted him onto his lap. Harry looked to the ceiling nervously, wondering if that horrible bird would suddenly appear.

"What are you looking at?" Voldemort questioned, eyeing the ceiling curiously.

"There was a bird," Harry explained, "and it tried to burn us up."

"In your dream this happened?"

Harry nodded. "It was awful. It wanted to burn you away and I held on tight, but it kept burning us." He clutched at the man's robes fitfully. "It was awful," he whispered as the pain of that moment hit him with great force. "We were both burning away to nothing."

Voldemort squeezed him tight. "It was only a nightmare Harry. We'll always be together," he stated forcefully. "I promise that nothing will ever keep us apart."

A strange warmth rose up inside Harry and the bad dream moved farther into the back of his mind. Soon it would be forgotten forever, as all nightmares eventually are.


	18. Chapter 18

The flames in the fireplace reflected off Harry's glasses as the boy lay curled up on the settee. Voldemort watched the child intently, seeking even the slightest sign of distress. But Harry slept soundly, seemingly unburdened by the night's events, unaware of the two wizards gazing at him in the firelight.

"I am very surprised at your behavior Severus," Voldemort stated softly, watching the man over his glass of brandy. "You haven't once asked what happened in the forest. Aren't you curious?"

Snape seemed to consider the question for a moment, his dark eyes firmly affixed on the rise and fall of Harry's small chest. "Of course I am, my Lord, but I am not impertinent."

Voldemort snorted into his glass before taking a sip. "Lucius would be weaseling for information if he were here."

"I am not Lucius," Snape replied, tracing his glass with one fingertip.

"No, you most definitely are not," Voldemort agreed. He studied the dark-haired man for a moment, wishing, not for the first time, that Severus wasn't such an expert Occlumens. Now Snape had him curious. What did the man think as he looked upon the son of his lost beloved?

"Perhaps one day you will explain what happened here tonight," Severus commented.

Voldemort tilted his head to the side and pulled the blanket over Harry's tiny shoulders, patting the boy on the head before returning to his drink.

"One day or evening in the future, perhaps I will explain, but not tonight," Voldemort confirmed ominously. "At the moment the situation is too delicate. Though I should inform you that Aurors will be returning to the forest to clear out the Centaurs." To Snape's credit, the man barely flinched at Voldemort's strange announcement.

Truthfully, Voldemort had nothing against the Centaurs. The half-man, half-animal beasts kept to themselves most of the time and rarely caused trouble. But at least two had seen him in the forest and even more may have been spying, which meant that they could not be allowed to live to tell whatever tales they may spin.

"If I might inquire," Snape paused for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Is there a reason that you wish the Centaurs destroyed?"

Voldemort was surprised the normally quiet man would ask such a question. "Is it not enough that I've ordered it?" He asked, red eyes narrowing.

Snape shook his head. "Of course not, my Lord."

Voldemort sighed and waved his wand to fill his glass with bright brandy. His eyes strayed to Harry's still form before looking up to find his Potions Master studying him intently. Snape's black orbs were haunting and somewhat hypnotic.

"Do you believe there are wizards and witches who can see the future?"

He could tell by the twitch in Snape's right eye, he'd caught the man off guard. Snape leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the Dark Lord's.

"I believe that most Seer's are charlatans and frauds," he replied in a dismissive tone. "But," he leaned closer, staring intently. "I also believe that magic gives witches and wizards the ability to predict the consequences of their actions better than muggles. There have been times I've had dreams of certain events, only to have them come true. Does that mean I can see the future or does it only mean that my sub-conscious realizes that my own actions can shape the future?"

Voldemort's lips turned up in a small grin. "I saw the destruction of Hogwarts."

This time Snape could not hide his flinch, or the panic in his dark eyes. A pronouncement such as Voldemort's was upsetting enough, but to have such a prediction come from the most powerful wizard in the magical world made it all the more troubling. Snape actually let his mental shields slip for just a moment and Voldemort could see the fear there. It sickened him.

"You've grown soft," he hissed angrily. "Is that what these years at Hogwarts have done to you?" He glared at the man and couldn't believe it when Snape's mouth twisted into a sneer.

"And what has the boy done to you, my Lord?"

Voldemort's eyes flashed brightly, inflamed by the impudence of his follower. But then the memory of his dream came back and he recalled what his mirror image had said. He remembered Hogwarts burning to nothing. The wizarding world had been destroyed along with the rest of the world and he'd let it happen.

"The future is a terrible place," he whispered, the tone of his voice sounding horrified, "A strange curse fell upon through the wizarding world, causing children to lose their magic. There were so few wizards and witches left; we couldn't stand against the muggles when they finally made it past the wards. Hogwarts didn't stand a chance against the machines they created."

Snape's hands tightened around the arms of the chair on which he was sitting. "But some must have survived."

Voldemort smiled cruelly. "Of course, Harry and I survived and we ripped the world asunder. It was glorious. Our anger and hate burned the world until there was nothing left but ash." His smile turned to a frown. "And Harry burned as well, he always burned…"

"But surely something can be done!" Snape exclaimed. Harry shifted and the man looked down at the boy worriedly, waiting to see if the child would wake. "You must have some idea what caused it all," he continued, his voice much quieter.

"I do," Voldemort replied. "I didn't understand it immediately because I didn't want to."

"Well, what was it, my Lord?"

"It was my fault," he stated succinctly and with no room for argument. "That's what my reflection was trying to tell me. I've turned away from my nature, thinking that's what's best for the wizarding world and for the boy, but I was wrong. If I'm going to keep the world safe and keep Harry safe, I need to be strong again…I need to be feared again."

"My Lord," Severus gasped. "You are still as feared as you've ever been."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do not lie to me." His wand was in his hand before he could think about what he was doing. "Crucio!"

Snape fell to the floor, writing in pain. His cries echoed through Voldemort's private sitting room, bouncing from wall-to-wall, until the entire space was filled with the sweet sound of wailing and howling.

Voldemort closed his eyes for a moment, embracing the forgotten noise as if it were a long lost friend. He opened his eyes and ended the curse, grinning at the sight of Snape cowering at his feet. Two green eyes watched from the settee and he knew Harry was awake.

The boy was shivering, not so much in fear, but from the sheer power of Voldemort's magic as it swirled around the man. Voldemort thought about going to the boy and explaining why he had to punish Snape the way he had, but thought better of it. If Voldemort was going to take his place as the Dark Lord, then Harry would have to become used to seeing his mentor hand out punishment without explanation, sometimes even without provocation.

He offered the boy a large, confident smile and was glad when he received a small, unsure smile in return. Harry's eyes glanced at Snape as the man pulled himself up from the floor.

"I apologize, my Lord," Snape stammered through his pain.

Voldemort tilted his head in acknowledgement. "You'll need to start watching your tongue. I won't stand for insolence."

Severus nodded wholeheartedly, falling to one knee in front of his Master. "Of course, my Lord. I will do better in the future."

Voldemort turned to Harry and held out his hand. "Come Harry, let's return home."

The boy glanced again at Snape, a look of uncertainty in his green eyes. "Okay," he replied softly before tentatively reaching toward Voldemort's hand. "Good-bye Headmaster," he said politely.

"Good-bye Harry," Snape replied with as much heartiness as he could muster.

Voldemort scooped the boy into his arms and quickly exited Snape's quarters. The dawn would soon be upon them and he wished to return to his castle as soon as possible. He passed the Dark Forest, with a smirk on his thin lips. His magic still marked the place. It was so thick he could almost smell it in the air.

As the Dark Lord walked swiftly toward the gates of Hogwarts he never noticed a small form hidden in the shadows of the towering trees. It was Margaret Benson, a Ravenclaw first-year. She'd seen something curious when out for a walk that afternoon, a strange light at the edge of the forest. Ever since then her mind felt as if she were walking through a fog. Periodically, a command would be whispered in her ear, such as the command to come to the forest that had woken her from sleep not long ago.

A cruel, long-fingered hand reached down to caress the girl's beautiful, blonde curls, while the other reached around her neck to fasten a large, metal collar. Margaret's blue eyes remained clouded and confused as the man offered his female companion a cruel smile.

"She is too old."

The man shook his head. "She is perfect for our experiment."

"We should have grabbed the boy," the woman replied icily. "The boy is what we want…what we need."

"Soon, my dear, soon." He placed a strong hand on Margaret's back and began leading her through the forest. "The Dark Lord would have killed us in the blink of an eye if we would have tried to snatch the boy."

"He is not so powerful," she scoffed.

"Idiot," he hissed, "You know nothing of his power. He killed a phoenix tonight."

A loud howl echoed through the forest and they both paused to listen.

"Let us go now," the woman urged softly, "This place is full of evil things."

The man fingered the collar around Margaret's neck. "The magical world has always been full of evil things."

**DSz**

Arthur awoke to the sound of logs crackling in the fireplace and an overwhelming feeling of being watched. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, while pushing up to a sitting position with the other. Blearily he took in the fine bedroom in which he slept. The curtains were made of a heavy, silver cloth, the carpet was a beautiful deep green, and the hooded man standing in the corner was watching him with curious red eyes. Wait a moment…red eyes…

Arthur shot out of bed and was on his feet in an instant. "My Lord!" He greeted loudly, "I'm…I…"

"Sit, Mr. Weasley," the pale wizard commanded as he stepped from the shadows.

Arthur swiftly lowered himself to the edge of the bed and did his best to calm his breathing. It had been so long since he'd been in the presence of the Dark Lord. He'd forgotten how intimidating the man could be when doing nothing but looking at you with those cold, red eyes.

"I am quite surprised to find you in my home, Mr. Weasley," Voldemort stated, a cold edge to his voice. "Perhaps you can explain."

"Of course, My Lord," he nodded. "But perhaps we should wake Lucius, it would be much better if he were to explain."

"I'd like you to explain, Mr. Weasley."

Arthur shivered at the way the man hissed his name. "Of course. You see, it…well, it's hard to explain, but we've run across a bit of a problem in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

"Get to the point, Mr. Weasley."

Arthur swallowed hard past the lump in his throat, a thin sheen of sweat developing on his brow. "Someone's come up with a way to turn magical children into squibs."

"What?!" Voldemort's eyes flared bright and his magic lashed out, causing Arthur to flinch.

"They've modified a muggle device…a collar that stops dogs from barking. Somehow they got it to work on children's magic instead," explained Arthur. "Every time the child uses magic while wearing the collar, the collar gives them a shock. In turn, their magic lashes out at the collar."

Voldemort seemed to calm slightly and his expression changed from furious to contemplative. "I see." He tapped his wand on his thigh and Arthur felt somewhat hypnotized by the motion. "It's quite ingenious and of course, horrifically dangerous. These people, whoever they are, must be found, killed, and all of their work must be destroyed. How large is this operation?"

Arthur shook his head. "No one is certain. The warehouse we found had at least ten crates full of collars and we found fourteen children."

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed to slits. "The fools," he hissed. "Why would they leave such a large amount of evidence behind? They can't be very intelligent criminals."

"Or they could have a much larger facility somewhere else," Arthur put in without thinking. His eyes widened as he realized that he'd contradicted Voldemort's statement. But far from being angry, the Dark Lord looked slightly amused.

"You may be correct," Voldemort stated and Arthur's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. "Have you started an investigation?"

Arthur nodded and jumped off the bed. He quickly located his knapsack and pulled out a slightly crumpled file folder. "This is all of the information we've gathered so far. You may want to look at the first page now, My Lord."

Voldemort flipped open the file folder and then nearly dropped it. "Harry." He whispered the name so quietly that it was barely audible. His fists tightened around the folder and Arthur fought the urge to pull it away before it could be destroyed.

"It's very important that these people be found," urged the Dark Lord as his eyes met Arthur's and suddenly the redhead felt as if his mind was being pulled apart. Flashes of memories and feelings assailed him and he felt light-headed and tired. And then, as quickly as it had started, it just stopped.

Arthur stood clutching his chest with one hand. His other hand lay on the desk in front of him and his body was bent over from exhaustion.

"What in Merlin's name did you do to me?" He questioned between heaving gasps.

"Take this," Voldemort urged, handing him a potion. "I used Legilimency to look into your mind. I had to be certain that you're not part of this new group. I'm sure you understand."

Arthur nodded. "Of course, My Lord." He eyed the phial in his hand for moment, before downing the bluish liquid. It tasted of blueberries and instantly he felt much better. "You have to understand though." He looked up imploringly at the most evil wizard in history. "Even if I may not agree with you, even if I hate you, I would never harm a child. Besides, James and Lily Potter were my friends and Harry is their son, I would protect him as if he were one of my own."

Voldemort tilted his head to the side and considered the nervous redhead standing before him. Not many in the wizarding world would speak to him so boldly. Perhaps having a loyal and stupidly brave Gryffindor protecting his boy could prove useful.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for all the great reviews. I'm glad people are enjoying this story. I'm sorry the updates have been so few and far between, but I'm in the middle of planning my wedding and I'm also very busy with work. I'll try to do better, I promise!**


	19. Chapter 19

"I'm off to Madam Malkin's, Draco. Do not wander far and be sure Dobby doesn't lose sight of you." Narcissa smoothed her son's hair and straightened his robes.

Draco rolled his eyes and swatted her hands away. "Of course, Mother. Come along Dobby." He motioned to the simpering creature at his side.

"You watch him closely Dobby and make certain he stays out of trouble."

"Of course, Mistress Malfoy. Dobby will not let the young Master out of his sight."

Diagon Alley was busier than usual for a Tuesday afternoon and Draco was anxious to be free of his Mother. He had planned out this day's itinerary in advance and knew exactly where he wanted to go and when. Zonko's would be his first stop, then Quality Quidditch Supplies to look at the brand new Nimbus. After that, perhaps he'd swing over to Honeyduke's to buy a bit of chocolate.

It was on the way to Zonko's that Draco noticed something odd. A cloaked figure was gesturing to him from the darkened alleyway next to the joke shop. He couldn't see the person's face, only a pale, thin hand gesturing him closer. Dobby gave him a worried look, as if the elf knew he was curious, but Draco wasn't that naïve. His father had taught him long ago about bad wizards and strangers, and what they do to stupid, young boys who go off with them to dark places.

"Master Malfoy," a sweet, high-pitched voice called out softly.

This caught the child's attention. He wasn't expecting the dark strange in the alley to sound like a nice young lady.

"Master Malfoy, your Father has ordered me to bring you to him," the woman stated before pulling back the hood on her cloak slightly.

Draco sighed in relief when a Death Eater's mask came into view. He strolled calmly across the street until he was standing in front of the mystery woman.

Dobby tugged his bat-like ears. "Young Master should not be talking to strangers. Mistress Malfoy does not like when Young Master Malfoy talks to strangers."

"Quiet Dobby," he ordered. "Why has my Father sent for me?"

The Death Eater shook her head. "I don't know why. He just said to bring you at once."

Now Draco was becoming confused. Surely if his Father wanted him immediately, then his Mother should be informed.

"Wait here. I'll just go let my Mother know and then I'll come right back."

The thin, pale hand that had beckoned him earlier shot out from the woman's dark cloak and grabbed him tightly around the arm. Immediately Draco knew that he was in danger and his small heart began beating wildly inside his chest.

"You let me go this instant!" He shouted.

The woman tugged him closer, placing her hand over his mouth. "Quiet you," she whispered into his ear, the coldness in her voice causing him to shiver uncontrollably. "I don't want to have to hurt you. Not yet anyway."

Draco's eyes widened and he kicked his skinny, little legs for all they were worth.

"You will let the Young Master go this instant," Dobby stated forcefully. "Or Dobby will have to hurt you." The small elf held up both hands.

"Get the gun and shoot this thing," the woman sneered, and suddenly a large, cloaked figure appeared behind her.

"With pleasure."

From the folds of his robe, the man pulled a strange shiny object. Draco had never seen anything like it before, so he wasn't exactly sure what it would do. He only knew that whatever it was, it wasn't anything good. The man pulled a tiny lever and a horribly loud noise echoed through the alley. Draco closed his eyes, not wanting to see what the queer device would do to his faithful house elf. A tiny tear tracked down his pale cheek as he realized that he was all alone now.

"I don't care much for guns," a gruff voice stated, and something must have happened to the woman because she suddenly released Draco.

He fell to the ground with a soft thump and quickly opened his eyes to see a huge man squeezing the arms of both his attackers. On the ground lay the strange weapon the man had tried to use on Dobby. Draco crawled towards it, curious to get a closer look, but the large man's voice made him pause.

"That's a bit dangerous to be playin' with. Best you leave it where it lay."

Draco nodded and pushed up from the ground.

"I'll go get help," he suggested.

"That's a fine idea," the man said with a smile, "We'll wait here for ya."

But the woman had other ideas. Somehow she slipped a hand from the man's grasp and before he could grab her again, she pulled a dagger from her boot and stabbed Draco's savior in the side. The shocked look on the man's face caused Draco to flinch.

"C'mon, let's get out of here!" She grabbed her companions arm and they ran down the alley, disappearing around the corner in mere seconds.

Draco wrung his hands worriedly. He had no idea what to do now. The big man was down on one knee, clutching his side. Blood ran through the man's fingers and pooled on the stones beneath their feet.

"What do I do? What can I do?"

"Go fetch help," the man gasped. "From the Alley boy, go…help…"

The man crumpled to the ground.

"Stay with him Dobby," Draco ordered. "I'm going to get help." He sprinted from the Alley, yelling at the top of his lungs. "Help! Someone help me!" Tears ran down his face as his brain started catching up with the events in the alley. "Please, someone!"

"Draco?" A soft, lilting voice called out.

For a moment he froze, thinking the voice sounded suspiciously like the voice in the alley. But a moment later a head of long, blonde hair came into view and he knew it was his Mother.

"Mother!" He called, pushing through the crowds. "Mother, I need help."

**dSz**

Voldemort felt a strange sensation as Miss Fallow entered his study. He looked up from the paperwork spread out on his desk and was surprised to see a large, black dog shuffling along behind his faithful servant. The animal felt strange, as if it wasn't an animal at all, but something entirely different.

"_It's a man,"_ Nagini hissed from her resting place at his feet.

"_Animagus?"_ He questioned, and Nagini nodded her head in response.

Now he was even more curious. Who would have the nerve to spy on the Dark Lord?

"Where did you find that animal?" He asked the woman.

Miss Fallow's steps faltered for a moment. "At Godric's Hollow," she replied nervously. "He was attached to my dress when I used my portkey. I thought he might be a good pet for Harry."

Voldemort shook his head. "I'll be getting a snake for Harry once he's older. Besides, we'll be moving into the city soon. I wish to be closer to the Ministry."

His servant nodded sadly. "Tomorrow I'll take him to the animal shelter in Hogsmeade. Perhaps someone will want to take him home. He is a very good dog."

"I might know of someone who will take him in. Why don't you leave him here and I'll check him for curses."

Miss Fallow patted the dog on the head before leaving the room, certain that her Master would simply dispose of the unwanted animal. The door closed with a soft click and Voldemort immediately pulled his wand on the black dog. Slowly, he moved around his desk and prowled toward the obviously frightened beast.

"I wonder who would have the courage to sneak into the home of the most powerful wizard in the world." A loud whine escaped the dog as it slowly backed away from his wand. "Shall we find out?"

With a flick of his wand, the dog began to change shape and a scream escaped the Animagus as he was forced into his human form. Voldemort watched curiously as the man took shape. He was thin, with an assortment of tattoos on his naked body and a shaggy mop of black hair on top of his head. Wild black eyes glared at Voldemort, eyes as dark as the strange man's name.

"Sirius Black," Voldemort hissed the name with barely restrained glee. "Well, this is amusing. Lucius has been searching the countryside for you and here you are in the home of the man who ordered you dead." The Dark Lord circled Black as he lay gasping for breath. "I have to wonder what in Merlin's name you were thinking."

"Harry," the man whispered softly, "I had to see Harry."

"And what did you plan to do once you saw him? Did you think you'd take him from me?" Voldemort laughed maniacally. "Your godson loves me more than anything in the world and you really think he'd just up and leave with a strange man he's never met in his life."

Voldemort flicked his wand, forcing Black to stand. He grasped the fugitive's chin and entered the man's mind. "I have to make sure you aren't part of this newest conspiracy," he murmured as he tore through Black's mind. "I'm sure you understand."

Once he was done, he allowed the man to fall to his knees.

"I should kill you here and now," Voldemort stated calmly, "But I'm not going to." Black's eyes widened in surprise. "No, I think I have a better punishment for you."

"What could be worse?" Black questioned, his voice gravely and gruff.

The Dark Lord chuckled. "There are many things worse than death," he replied. "Your old mentor taught me that. Instead of killing you, I'm sending you home with Arthur Weasley. You are to remain in your animagus form and live as the Weasley family pet. If I ever see, or hear, that you've been away from his home, or that you've changed into your human form, I will slaughter the Weasley family and send you back to Azkaban."

Black's mouth opened in shock. "But Arthur hasn't done anything wrong."

"He knows who you are and he said nothing. The man is lucky that I find him useful or he'd be in Azkaban by nightfall."

The dark-haired man gave him a curious look. "Why are you doing this? Why don't you just kill me and eliminate the threat?"

"Crucio," Voldemort hissed, allowing the man's screams to fill the room before ending the spell. He knelt down next to the broken heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. "Someday you might be useful in my plans, so I allow you to live. But hear me now Black, you are no threat to me or to Harry and at any time I can take your life." A cruel grin formed on his thin lips. "Or perhaps I'll allow Harry to do the honor someday."

"Monster!" Black screamed. "What have you done to him? What have you done to my godson?"

"He's mine Black, and he always has been." With a wave of his wand Black returned to his dog form.

**dSz**

The sun was shining brightly through the windows of Harry's bedroom and the boy found he was drawn to the warm rays. Like a cat, he lay stretched out on the window bench. The warmth made him feel strong, like he was a fire and the sun added wood to his flames.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing Harry?" Miss Fallow questioned, noticing him as she entered the room with a tray of sandwiches.

"Catching the sun," he replied, stretching his arms above his head so the sun was shining on the whole of his back.

"And you needed to remove your clothes for that?" She eyed the naked boy disapprovingly.

"It feels better this way." Harry pushed up to a sitting position. He turned toward Miss Fallow and was surprised to see her staring at him with a strange expression on her face. "Is something wrong?" He asked.

Miss Fallow shook here head as she slowly made her way across the room. She set the tray of sandwiches on the bed before sitting down next to him on the bench by the window. Her eyes were trained on his back and Harry bent his head to the side in attempt to see what had her acting so strangely.

"Where did you get this tattoo?" Miss Fallow questioned. "Did the Dark Lord give it to you?" Her tone sounded angry and upset.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about. What tattoo?"

With a gentle tug, she pulled him into the bathroom. Her fingers trembled as she ran her hands across the faint black lines on the small boy's back. Harry tried to turn his head to look, but couldn't turn far enough to see anything.

"What is it?"

"Wings," Miss Fallow whispered softly.

"Really?" Harry questioned, still straining to see. "Will you fetch me a mirror so I can see them?"

Without thinking, Miss Fallow reached out for the silver hand mirror next to the sink. Harry grabbed it from her before she could protest, quickly running into his bedroom to stand with his back to the full length mirror hanging on his wardrobe. His small, green eyes widened with awe as he took in the beautiful black wings that had somehow been drawn on his back.

The wings were huge, stretching from his shoulders, all the way to the top of his buttocks. Harry bent forward slightly to catch the light from the window. The detail of the drawings was amazing. It almost looked as if they had real feathers.

"I'm going to show Voldemort," he exclaimed. The hand mirror fell from his grasp and he rushed toward the door.

Miss Fallow moved quicker. "You will get dressed first young man. There are guests in the manor and I'll not have you rushing about the place like some kind of wild, jungle boy."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. "Do jungle boys run around naked then? Aren't they cold?"

"Go get some clothes on," She ordered before giving him a firm smack on the rear.

The door opened just as Harry as starting to gather up his clothes. Voldemort strolled in, Nagini slithering near his feet.

"Why in Merlin's name are you running about naked?" He questioned.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not running about. I was just lying in the window. The sun feels good on my skin."

"I told him to put on some clothes My Lord," Miss Fallow assured him. "But perhaps you should take a look at his back first." Her voice became slightly cold then and Voldemort looked at her curiously.

"Have I done something to anger you?"

"Well I certainly don't think it's appropriate to tattoo a child."

"What?" Voldemort asked, giving her a confused look.

Harry stomped his foot. "Voldemort didn't do anything."

Voldemort dropped to one knee and motioned Harry over. The boy turned, baring his back to the Dark Lord, whose red eyes widened in surprise. Tentatively, he reached out to touch the delicate looking wings and felt Harry shiver in response.

"Do they hurt?" He asked, knowing that tattoo's, especially magical ones, can hurt for days and even weeks after they're done.

Harry shook his head. "No, just feels funny when you touch them like that."

"What does it feel like?"

The small boy's head cocked to the side. "It feels like when I rub my slippers across the carpet and all my hairs stand up."

"_The boy smells different,"_ Nagini stated, bringing her head up to lick Harry's back, _"He smells more like you."_

Harry turned to look at the large snake, his brow furrowed. _"But why would I smell any different?"_ Nagini reared back in shock and Voldemort had to put a hand on the floor to stop from falling backward. _"What did I say? What's wrong?"_

"Harry," Voldemort cleared his throat before continuing, "Can you understand Nagini?"

Harry nodded. "She said I smell different." He held up one arm and sniffed the air. "Do you think I smell? Maybe I need another bath."

Voldemort smiled bemusedly at his Harry. The boy didn't even realize that anything was different. "No Harry, don't you see? You can speak Parseltongue."

"But that's silly; you're the only one that can speak Parseltongue."

"Then how did you understand Nagini?"

Green eyes narrowed and then widened. "I can speak snake language?" Harry whispered in a cautious tone.

Voldemort nodded. "Yes."

"I can talk to snakes?"

"Yes." The Dark Lord replied again, starting to get a bit agitated.

"_Hello Harry,"_ Nagini interrupted.

Harry turned to her, a large smile on his face. _"Hello Nagini. I can speak snake language."_

"_I know you can, my boy Harry,"_ Nagini hissed.


	20. Chapter 20

Lucius Malfoy stepped swiftly through the front door of Malfoy Manor. A house-elf immediately appeared at his side to take his traveling cloak. The Manor was oddly silent for a Sunday. Usually Draco would be running wild through the place, driving the poor servants and his Mother to near madness.

"Bauble," he called out and a very ancient looking elf appeared at his feet.

"You called Bauble, Master Malfoy?"

Lucius nodded, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the entryway. "Where is your Mistress?"

Bauble wrung his hands nervously. "Mistress Malfoy being with poor young Master Malfoy. Young Master was being attacked Master Malfoy!" He ended with a loud squeak.

"What?" Lucius exclaimed. "Where is he now?"

"Young Master in his bedroom, sir."

Without another word Lucius pushed the old elf out of the way and rushed up the stairs. He called out Draco's name and then his wife's, a cold fear gripping his blackened heart. His designer boots skid across the floor as he came to an abrupt stop in front of the closed door to his son's bedroom. A great epiphany hit him then and somehow he knew that this was the fear he had caused so many others during the war.

"Narcissa," he called out as he pushed open the door. His wife sat at the edge of Draco's bed, holding the pale hand of her only son.

"Shhhh…" She put a finger to her painted red lips. "He's sleeping." Her eyes were bloodshot and red.

Gracefully she rose from the bed and crossed the room to her husband. Lucius immediately took her into his arms and lead her from the room. Narcissa's whole body shook with anxiety.

"I don't want to leave him alone," she protested, but Lucius continued to lead her down the hall to their own bedroom.

"He'll be fine," he stated. "He's safe here in the manor. Now tell me what happened." He maneuvered her to the window seat, knowing that the view of the garden below would help calm her nerves.

Narcissa's hands twisted in her lap until her dress was bunched and wrinkled. "It was all my fault," she moaned. "I let him go off with Dobby. I should have known better. I should have…"

Lucius grabbed her hands and kissed her knuckles. "What happened?" He questioned once more.

"Someone tried to take him! They tried to take our son, Lucius. He's just a little boy."

"Who tried to take him?"

His wife shook her head. "I don't know. Draco said it was a man and a woman. They had a muggle gun and they tried to shoot Dobby." Lucius motioned for her to continue. "A man stepped in and stopped them, but they stabbed the man and then ran off."

A long, rattling breath escaped Lucius and he sat down next to his wife with a loud thump. Guns, knives, abduction attempts, he thought he was free of such things. The world had changed hadn't it? The war had ended and their side had been victorious.

"Did Draco's savior survive the ordeal?"

Narcissa nodded sadly. "He's at St. Mungo's right now, but they think he'll pull through. O Lucius, why would someone try to take Draco? Is it all starting again?"

"No my love, it's not starting again," he assured softly. "The Dark Lord won't allow an uprising, you can be certain of that. He's returning to the Ministry."

"Good," she growled. "I hope he finds these people and tortures them until they wish they were dead."

"I'm sure he will, "Lucius chuckled. "Now, who is this mystery man that saved our son? Does he have a name?"

"It was Rubeus Hagrid."

"What?"

**dSz**

A large sun blazed overhead and Harry reached his arms as far overhead as possible in an attempt to catch its heat. Nagini was stretched out lazily to his right. Both bodies were hidden in the tall grass of the field where they lay. Once again Harry was completely naked, a fact that would get him into serious trouble if Miss Fallow were to stumble across his hiding place.

"_Stop that Nagini,"_ Harry complained as the snake's tongue tickled his shoulder.

"_You're like a snake the way you lay on your belly," _chuckled Nagini. _"Perhaps you're part snake."_

Harry smiled at the snake and did a quick roll across the ground. The tall grass bent under his weight and stayed flat. He continued to roll until he was surrounded by a large area of flattened grass and leaves. Then he began to slither across the ground on his belly.

"_Look Nagini, I am a snake."_

The serpent hissed a long, drawn out laugh. Anyone would have been scared of such an evil sound, but Harry merely chuckled in return.

"_Voldemort says were leaving to live somewhere else. You'll come with us, won't you Nagini?"_

"_Of course I will," _the snaked replied.

"_Miss Fallow won't be," _Harry continued sadly. _"Voldemort says she's very sick and she's going to die, like my parents died." _Nagini nodded. _"But he said we'll never have to worry about that because we'll never die. I don't understand though. If we can't die, then why can't we make it so Miss Fallow won't die either?"_

Nagini seemed to consider his question before forming a response. _"The Dark Lord is special, Harry, and he has chosen to make us special as well. Miss Fallow is not special and she never can be, so she will die just as all things die."_

Harry's brow furrowed in thought. He still didn't quite understand. Of course Voldemort was special; he's the most powerful wizard to ever exist. But how could Harry be special too? Did he deserve to live forever?

"_Do not worry young one,"_ Nagini interrupted his thoughts. _"Miss Fallow will be fine. She will go to the place that all go when they die."_

"_Then I'll never see her again, since I'll never go to that place. Won't she be lonely?"_

"_No one can be lonely in that place and they never feel any pain or sorrow."_

Suddenly an odd feeling rippled through Harry's body and his back arched upward. A low keen escaped him and black spots appeared in front of his eyes. Nagini hissed at him, asking if he was alright, but he couldn't answer as his jaw was clenched too tightly to move his lips. A deep ache settled in his back and then a moment later it was gone.

The world spun around Harry as he pushed up from the ground. His breathing was shallow and quick and his bones ached with a ghostly pain. What was that? Harry didn't know, but he did feel as if there was something inside him that was fighting to break free.

"_Harry, are you okay?"_

"_Yes, Nagini. I'm fine now. I don't know what happened. I feel funny."_

Nagini looked up at him quizzically. _"We should return to the castle in case it happens again."_

Harry nodded and turned to follow her home.

**dSz**

Voldemort angrily crushed the parchment in his hands. It was a letter that Malfoy's owl had just delivered. Apparently someone had tried to abduct Lucius' son while he and his mother were shopping in Daigon Alley. It had to be the same group that had abducted and tortured the children found at the warehouse. They appeared to be growing bolder, which made it all the more important that the Dark Lord return to the wizarding world.

"_Bad news?"_ Came a hiss at his feet. It was Nagini. He hadn't even heard the snake enter the room.

"_Someone has attempted to abduct Malfoy's son while he was shopping at Diagon Alley."_ His snake look surprised at that.

"_So bold, I am surprised."_

Voldemort nodded. _"As am I."_ He smoothed out the parchment and read the missive once more. Malfoy's son was saved by none other than Rubeus Hagrid. The Dark Lord chuckled at that little bit of information.

"_Where have you been?"_ He questioned his snake, suddenly noticing the earthy smell that emanated through the room.

"_Harry and I were basking in the sun."_

"_Naked again, I suppose."_

The snake nodded her large head. _"He's like a snake," _she chuckled. _"There is something wrong. Harry had some kind of attack. You need to speak with him."_

"_Attack?"_

"_He shook and writhed, like a curse spell was on him."_

Voldemort rose from his desk and made his way out of his study. _"Where is the boy now?"_

"_Resting in his room," _Nagini replied before leaving in the opposite direction, most likely in search of food.

The door to Harry's room opened with a loud creak and Voldemort wasn't surprised to find the boy lying on the window seat, naked as the day he was born. Harry looked up at him and smiled as he crossed the room, but he didn't rise up from his stomach. This gave the Dark Lord ample opportunity to study the intricate tattooed wings that now graced the boys back. Without thinking he reached out with a pale hand and traced one of the feathers. The blackened skin rippled under his fingertips and Harry's entire body seemed to jerk in surprise.

Voldemort pulled his hand away and studied his fingers. It felt as if he'd touched real feathers. Some kind of magic then from when he killed the phoenix, it had to be. Harry turned to give him a questioning look.

"That felt funny," Harry stated aloud. "Like the wings were real or something."

Voldemort nodded. "Yes, it's strange."

Harry's brow furrowed and for the first time his bright green eyes peered up at the Dark Lord with a hint of suspicion. "What did you do to me?"

For a moment Voldemort was taken aback by the question. Harry had never questioned him on anything, not like this. The boy's inquiries were always made out of curiosity, not fear and distrust.

"I put a piece of myself into you," Voldemort replied bluntly. "And I did so by killing a phoenix."

"But how? A phoenix can't die."

The Dark Lord smirked, exceptionally pleased with himself.

"You really killed a phoenix?" He nodded and Harry's eyes became even wider. "Wow, you are powerful."

"Someday you will be as powerful as I am, Harry. You will be my equal." Harry looked doubtful. "I promise that I speak the truth. Now you should be getting your things together. We'll be moving in a few days."

Harry sighed. "I'm going to miss the castle."

"So will I," admitted Voldemort.

"We should move to Hogwarts and kick all the students out," Harry suggested with a bright smile. Voldemort reached out and ruffled the mop of black hair on the child's head.

"Perhaps someday," he chuckled. "When we've seen all there is to see and conquered all there is to conquer."

Harry frowned. "Won't we get bored eventually?" He questioned.

"Then we'll go to the moon or another universe perhaps," Voldemort explained before running a hand over Harry's wings. The boy's entire body shook and his back arched. Voldemort allowed his mind to wander to odd places before nudging it back into its rightful place. "You best get dressed before Miss Fallow finds you lying about naked again."

The boy laughed before jumping up from the seat and barreling across the room. "I'm never wearing clothes again," he exclaimed, then ran out into the corridor. A moment later a loud shriek echoed through the castle.

"Harry Potter, you get dressed this instant you little heathen!"


	21. Chapter 21

The Dark Lord pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration as he listened to the heads of each department bicker back and forth across the round table in the Red Room. The Red Room was used mainly for very important meetings which required the utmost secrecy. It was decorated with tapestries in various shades of red. A large round table sat in the middle with high-backed wooden chairs around its circumference.

"We've never seen anything like this before," Walters, Head of the Department of Mysteries stated emphatically. "We have no idea whether these children will someday regain their magic or if they will remain squibs for the rest of their lives. Given these circumstances, I certainly don't believe it would be advisable to send them out into the muggle world."

The table erupted into chaos as small arguments broke out. Finally, he could stand it no more.

"I agree," he stated loudly and the group immediately fell into a dead silence. "The children cannot be sent into the muggle world, but they cannot be returned to their parents. My first inclination is to dispose of them all and be done with it."

"My Lord!" Arthur Weasley protested. Immediately all of the wizards turned to him with wide eyes. Voldemort merely looked on with amusement as the man's face became as red as his hair.

"Do you have something to say Weasley?" Voldemort questioned calmly. The rest of the table held their breath, waiting on the redhead's response.

"Well…I just don't think...I…" Weasley stuttered. "I just don't think it's right. These are magical children, it's not their fault their magic was stolen from them."

"And what do the rest of you think?" Voldemort peered around the table at the rest of the group, wondering if any of them would have the guts to speak up as Weasley had done. No one spoke for a good thirty seconds and then finally the sound of a throat being cleared echoed through the room.

"I believe Weasley is correct, My Lord," Lucius Malfoy stated with conviction. "The children are from pureblood families and they are victims. In my opinion they have been punished enough."

On the outside, Voldemort appeared calm and serious, but inside, he was smirking with glee. The horrible criminals who had kidnapped the unfortunate pureblooded children probably thought they were delivering some kind of blow to the wizarding world and his administration. Instead, as Weasley and Malfoy had just proven, the filth had provided him with a golden opportunity. This would be the issue that would bring the Wizarding World together, united under one banner, his banner.

"You are of course, correct," Voldemort replied and the entire group seemed to sigh in relief. "The children are victims. We shall have the Department of Child Services setup a home for them. This home will be hidden in the muggle world and the children will remain there until they turn eighteen. A trust fund will be setup for each child in the amount of $50,000 muggle dollars, to be converted to galleons if the child's magic returns. Whether their magic returns or not though, their identities will be changed and they will be obliviated of any memory of their parents."

"To the wizarding world as a whole," he continued, "these children will be dead, killed by magic hating muggles and muggle-borns. Lucius, you will give a press conference and tell the newspapers everything about this heartless tragedy. I want you to mention the attempted kidnapping of your son as well. The public will be frightened and they will be outraged."

Arthur Weasley shuffled a bit in his seat. "What about the bodies?"

"Excuse me, I don't think I heard you correctly Weasley." Voldemort gave the man a pointed look.

"The bodies of the children," Weasley explained. "The families will want to bury their children, won't they be suspicious if there are no bodies to bury?"

Voldemort offered the man a toothy grin. "Let me worry about that Weasley," he chuckled. "Now, what information do we have on these criminals? I believe someone mentioned a muggle gun."

**dSz**

A grim aura seemed to hang over the castle as Voldemort stepped through the gate. He knew it was death haunting the halls and was more curious than frightened. Death was a strange thing. He had no fear of it, since he had achieved immortality, and had only ever experienced violent death. Miss Fallow would not die a violent death, instead it would be drawn out, killing a small bit of her as each day passed. If he didn't have Harry to worry about, he might have stayed to watch the process.

"_Voldemort,"_ Nagini hissed in greeting. The great snake lay on the front steps like a dog awaiting its master. _"Harry had another attack."_

"_I've spoken to Snape and he's working on a potion."_

"_A potion will not fix this," _the snake replied. _"It is the phoenix attempting to break free."_

Voldemort nodded. _"I'm afraid if it does, it will kill him."_

"_It will," _Nagini assured. _"You must find a way to suppress it, or kill it."_

"_Where is he?"_

"_In the sitting room with the woman,"_ Nagini answered. _"She is sure she will die tonight."_

"_Perhaps she will," _Voldemort shrugged.

"_But how can she know such things? Do humans know when they are going to die."_

"_I don't know_." He answered, and truly he did not know.

It had been so long since he'd thought of being human. Truly the only thing in the world which brought out any type of human feelings was Harry. Sometimes he caught himself daydreaming of not the boy Harry, but the man he'd seen in his nightmare. Was that the man the boy would become?

He found Miss Fallow and Harry in the sitting room playing chess. Miss Fallow was wrapped in a thick quilt and her hands trembled around a teacup. Harry pretended not to notice and jumped up happily as Voldemort strode through the doorway.

"Voldemort," Harry cried happily. "You're home early." He jumped into Voldemort's arms and the Dark Lord breathed in the scent of the boy's nest of black hair.

"I couldn't stand those idiots at the Ministry any longer," he replied, placing Harry's feet back on the ground. "I heard you had another attack."

Harry's face screwed up at the memory. "It wasn't so bad."

"Don't listen to him," Miss Fallow croaked from her chair by the fire. "He was shaking like a leaf after and I nearly had to knock him out to get his clothes back on."

"Were you running about naked again?" Voldemort questioned with an amused chuckle.

"No, he ripped them off during the attack," she explained.

"I was hot," Harry whined.

The boy grasped Voldemort's hand and pulled him toward the sofa. As soon as he sat, Harry was pressed to his side. Voldemort put an arm around the boy and pulled him close. Miss Fallow smiled fondly at them from across the room.

"My two boys," she said in a far-away kind of tone. "I am glad that you have each other."

Voldemort felt Harry fidget and knew the boy was uncomfortable. "Don't you two have a chess game to finish?" He questioned.

Harry shook his head. "I already had Miss Fallow in check, so I've pretty much won already."

"He's right," Miss Fallow chuckled. "I'm just no good at chess."

"Let's do something else then," suggested Voldemort. "What would you like to do Harry?"

"Will you tell us a story?" Harry asked.

Voldemort nodded. "Of course, why don't I tell you the Tale of the Three Brothers."

A half hour later Voldemort felt the weight at his side become heavier and he knew that Harry had fallen asleep. He glanced at Miss Fallow and immediately found himself entranced. The squib had never looked more magical then she did in the dim firelight. A deathly pallor had settled over her features and her pale face glowed with an unearthly light.

"Put the child to bed," she commanded in a tone that he'd never heard her use before. "Then we shall talk."

Voldemort nodded automatically and carried Harry away without argument. As he laid the boy upon silver sheets, he marveled at the fragile being fate had entrusted to his care. He caressed the child's cheek for a moment and ran a long-fingered hand through the boy's messy hair.

Miss Fallow sat unmoving in her chair when Voldemort returned to the sitting room. She looked more like a statue now then a living, breathing human woman. Her eyes appeared black and fathomless in the dimly lit room.

"You must promise me that you'll take care of him," she stated, again in that strange unearthly tone she'd used earlier.

Voldemort nodded. "Of course I will," he assured.

"He is important to you and you believe that someday he will be your equal," Miss Fallow stated knowingly and Voldemort didn't disagree. "But he will not be your equal. Harry is different and he will never become what you have become. Do not try and make him what you are."

"I don't understand," Voldemort replied in confusion.

"You wish to mold him and make him into something, but if you do this, you will destroy him. Harry will always be loyal to you and he will try his hardest to follow in your footsteps. You must not allow this to happen." Miss Fallow coughed harshly into a lacy handkerchief. "I am close to death now and I can see things as I've never seen them before."

Voldemort moved forward to kneel in front of the dying woman. "Tell me what you see," he urged, enraptured at this new experience.

"Harry is the way to new worlds because he is the only one who can see them. The world has lost the wonder of magic, but Harry is the embodiment of that wonder. He exists in a world where he should not exist, an absurdity of life and death. Let him be."

"Let him be what?" Voldemort questioned. "What should he be?"

"Let him be," Miss Fallow sighed and her body shuddered with her last breath. Voldemort watched in silence and a shiver raced up his spine.

It was some sort of magic, he decided. Nothing had ever made him feel so unsettled. He glanced around the room, a small part of him wondering if he'd be able to catch a glimpse of death. The grandfather clock began to toll. It was midnight.


	22. Chapter 22

Moonlight shown down through the trees and cast shadows across the forest floor. One shadow separated from the rest and glided over the damp leaves, its form fluid and graceful. The snapping of a twig caused the shadow to stop and turn. Red eyes glowed from beneath a black hood, watching and waiting. The sound of slithering and hissing whispered through the darkness. Soon yellow lights glowed from behind trees and brush.

"_Voldemort,"_ a female voice hissed seductively. _"It has been many seasons since you last sought my company."_

The shadow pushed back his hood, revealing an aristocratic, pale face and a neat pile of expertly combed and cut black hair. Voldemort smiled at the many yellow eyes staring out at him from the blackness beyond his sight. The last time he'd spoken to the Gorgons was before his war with Dumbledore. He'd sought their help and their advice. It was a well known fact that Medusa, the Gorgon Queen, was given the Sight at her creation. Voldemort had wanted to use that to his advantage.

"_Yes, it has been many years since we last spoke. Your help was immeasurably valuable to me in the last war." _He bowed in the direction of the voice.

A face shadowed in snakes poked its head into the small clearing. The creature surveyed Voldemort as if he were prey, before giving him a salacious smile. The upper half of her body was bare and he took a moment to appreciate the fullness of her breasts and the paleness of her skin. His eyes moved down her scaled torso to her snake-like lower half, which pitched and twitched like an angry serpent. Voldemort grinned in the moonlight, taking a measure of satisfaction in knowing that he would be the only one to ever look upon the creature and live.

"_So, my darling King of Serpents, what is it you now wish from me and mine?"_ Medusa questioned. She slithered closer, but stopped when she was still a few feet away. A delicate nose sniffed the air before a sly smile erupted on her plump lips. _"Have you brought us a gift? I smell the mundane upon you."_

"_Of course I've brought you a gift, did you think I would come empty handed?"_ From the folds of his robes he drew out a black, velvet bag. The bag tossed and turned, twisting the cord which Voldemort held in his hand. With a swish of his wand he removed the silencing charm and the cries of a baby permeated through the night. Medusa gave an excited hiss and the hissing of her tribe followed. She snapped her fingers and a young Gorgon slithered from the brush to take her prize.

Medusa sniffed the air as the bag passed by, her eyes lighting at the smell. _"You remembered mundane young are my favorite."_

"_Of course."_

"_Hmmm, you are a darling."_ Pointed white teeth flashed in the darkness. _"But I still smell something mundane in your robes. Not another gift?"_

Voldemort shook his head. _"I'm afraid not. I would like your help in tracking someone. I know you travel freely in the sewers below London."_ He pulled a muggle gun from his robes. _"Can you find the one who held this?"_

Medusa hissed angrily. _"I have seen one like that before, very loud and very dangerous. I will do what I can, but it is hard for my children to tell the mundane apart from one another, they all smell so disgusting. Perhaps I will do much of the searching myself." _Her chest puffed out and she preened under Voldemort's gaze. _"For you I will do this, because I know you will appreciate my efforts."_

Voldemort took a step toward her, grinning seductively. _"I would be happy to show you my appreciation."_

Suddenly the Gorgon's confident demeanor faltered for a moment and she giggled behind her hand. _"Such a lovely creature you are, my darling Dark Lord."_ She reached out to take the gun from him, but grabbed his hand at the same time. Leaning down gracefully, she ran his palm across her lips. Voldemort could feel the puffs of her breath as she smelled his skin.

"_Smell anything interesting?"_

Medusa paused, her entire body tensing. Even her tail stopped twitching as she looked up at Voldemort with a curious expression on her beautiful face. Her eyes became bright and she smiled widely.

"_Naughty, naughty my King, you've been traveling dimensions, haven't you?"_

Voldemort gave her a confused look. _"I've never traveled dimensions. I have enough to deal with here in my own."_

"_Hmmm, how odd?" _She sniffed his hand again. _"Perhaps you're living near an open portal. I can smell time and space upon your skin."_ Her nose traveled up his arm and stopped at the point where his neck and shoulder connected. _"How lovely."_ Her tail rattled with pleasure as her nose traveled to his hair. _"Mmmm, you smell of snake, death…fire and power… time… demons and... how strange."_

"_What's strange?"_

"_You smell of a creature that I cannot place. Have you been summoning from the netherworlds?"_

"_Not in many years," _Voldemort answered truthfully, now thoroughly confused.

"_Perhaps you summoned something without knowing it." _She backed away and sniffed the gun. _"There are two humans on this, one mundane and one magical. Which would you like me to find?"_

"_One should lead to the other. Do you recognize the magical scent?"_

Medusa cocked her head to the side. _"It seems familiar, a smell I haven't known for many, many seasons. It is hard, but not straight, with a color as black as a starless sky."_

**dSz**

Harry sat on the edge of his new bed, swinging his legs to and fro. It had only been a month since they moved into the large mansion in Hogsmeade and he already hated the place. It didn't help that Voldemort was always busy at the Ministry. Harry wasn't used to being ignored and he didn't like it one bit.

"Time for your potions, young Master Harry." Miss Craft floated into Harry's bedroom with a tray of potions in her hands. Harry marveled at how her blonde hair and blue eyes seem to glow in the sunlight. She eyed him warily as she sat the tray on the bedside table.

Miss Craft was a nice lady, but it was obvious to Harry that she was scared of Voldemort and possibly afraid of him as well. She'd nearly run from the house the first time she saw Nagini. That memory still made him laugh.

"Ugh, I hate potions." Harry eyed the tray with disgust.

Ever since he'd started having the strange seizures, he'd been forced to drink one experimental potion after another. He was actually beginning to believe that Headmaster Snape was enjoying having a test subject. So far the only thing that seemed to help were muscle relaxers and pain potions, both of which tasted completely gross as far as Harry was concerned.

"I know," Miss Craft nodded sadly. "But if you don't take these then you'll just have another attack, and that would be much worse than drinking yucky potions, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose," Harry agreed reluctantly. He closed his eyes tightly before downing each potion. For a moment he felt lightheaded and then a very strong sense of calm rushed from the tips of toes to the top of his head. His eyes flew open in fear. "That didn't feel right." He turned toward Miss Craft. "I don't feel right." Words were difficult to form as his brain began to shutdown.

Miss Craft smiled serenely as he collapsed onto the bed. "Don't worry silly baby, everything will be alright. I'm here to take care of sweet little babies." Harry's vision blurred as he began to pass out, but at the edge of his vision he was sure he could see the woman's face change and her hair became black and wild.

When Harry's eyes snapped open hours later, it felt as if no time had passed at all. There was a pain in his neck and he felt disoriented and confused. Where was he and where was Miss Craft? Why was he lying on a cool stone floor instead of his nice, new bed?

"Miss Craft," he called out weakly. "Miss Craft, where are you?"

"O poor baby," a frightening, high-pitched voice called out from beyond his line of vision. "Little Miss Craft didn't make it home one night, no she didn't and now she's dead."

Harry pushed up from the floor and peered around for the source of the voice. Three stone walls surrounded him and on one side was a wall of what looked to be iron bars. Like a dungeon, he decided. He'd never seen one, but Voldemort had mentioned them in many of his bedtime stories.

"Who's there?" He questioned loudly. "You better let me go before Voldemort comes looking for me."

A dark chuckle echoed through the dank cell, making his skin vibrate in an uncomfortable way. "O my baby, Voldemort won't want you after I'm done with you."

Harry's lower lip jutted out obstinately. "Voldemort's my friend and he will come for me. He loves me."

"The Dark Lord loves power!" The voice shrieked angrily. "And soon you will have no power, no magic; you will be nothing more than a squib. Do you think he will want you then?"

Now Harry was extremely worried. He'd never heard of a way to take a wizard's magic, but he didn't doubt that it could be done. Magic had always been a part of him, like an arm or a leg, and he knew that a person could lose those and still live. Why would magic be any different?

Without thinking he reached into his robes and grabbed his wand. For a moment he was surprised that his captors had allowed him to keep it, but he didn't think on that long. Instead he raised it in front of him in what he hoped was a threatening manner and sent a strong Reducto at the cell door.

"Ahhhhh!" He cried out as pain coursed through his body. He jerked and twitched across the floor, grabbing at the source of the horrible torture. Around his neck was a thick metal collar. He touched it carefully, looking for a lock or seam, but found none. "What is this?"

"Use your magic and you'll find out."

Harry's eyes widened. It wasn't hard to work out what the collar was for. If his kidnapper wanted him to use his magic, then obviously the collar was created to steal it as he used it. He dropped his wand as if it were on fire.

"Awww, don't you want to play anymore?"

"I'm not using anymore magic," he stated assuredly. "You can't make me."

Shrieking laughter followed his pronouncement. "O pretty baby, we can do this the hard way, or the extremely painful, extremely torturous way."

A scraping noise outside the cell drew Harry's attention. A decrepit, tall, thin man with long greasy hair came limping toward the bars. In his hand he carried a short whip with nine knotted ends. Harry had never seen anything like it, but imagination and common sense told him what it was used for. He unconsciously took a few steps back until he was in one of the shadowed corners of the cell.

"You can't hide from me boy," the man rasped and a shiver ran up Harry's spine.

"We must be quick," the woman's voice urged from the darkness, "before we're found."

Harry's eyes filled with tears. "Voldemort will find you and then he'll kill you for taking me."

The woman laughed again. "He will find you, but he won't want you anymore."

Harry felt his magic rise up in anger, but the collar around his neck sent out a powerful jolt of pain through his body before it could fully manifest. He found himself on the floor again, gripping the edges of the damp stones.

"This will be easy," the man grinned before snapping the whip dangerously close to Harry's face.

"Hurt him," the woman laughed wildly, "Make the half-blood bleed for what he has done."

**dSz**

Voldemort lay wrapped among scales and pale skin. Medusa's forked tongue tickled his neck as he absentmindedly caressed her perfectly formed breasts. The feeling of her long-nailed fingers rubbing slowly along his length caused him to moan in pleasure. The Gorgon laughed and pressed her body even closer to the naked wizard.

"_What would your followers say?" _She questioned in amusement. _"What would they say at seeing their Lord so wonton?"_

"_They would say whatever I would order them to say," _he hissed. Voldemort closed his eyes, losing himself in the feel of flesh upon flesh. Suddenly his imagination got away from him and the vision of Medusa's yellow eyes was replaced with green, and the snakes upon her head were replaced with a deep, messy black nest of soft hair, perfect for running ones fingers through.

"_Ah, I can see your mind wanders to another. Your body betrays your thoughts. Could it be? I cannot believe it. Could it be the King of Serpents has found himself a queen?" _She hovered above his face until he opened his eyes. _"Or perhaps the King has fallen in love with the Prince. Yes, but he is not the Prince yet."_

"_I've seen him," _admitted Voldemort. _"He exists in my dreams."_

Medusa's yellow eyes flashed brightly for a moment before she turned to look into the distance. _"Yesssss," _she hissed. _"I see him as well. He has bright green eyes full of wonder and beautiful black hair. Upon his forehead is a scar in the shape of lightning and upon his back are two wings."_

"_He has no scar on his forehead," _Voldemort assured her, before remembering the other Harry that would have existed if he'd tried to kill the boy that Halloween night so many years ago.

"_But he should," _she replied. _"And he will someday. I see it. He is very powerful."_

"_Why? What makes him so powerful?"_

She laughed. _"You allow the mongoose to grow strong and in recompense he will be your weapon against the other snakes. He will be a warrior someday, strong and loyal."_

"_Perhaps I do not wish him to be a warrior. Perhaps I only wish him to be mine."_

"_But he is yours," _explained Medusa. _"He is your reward and your responsibility. In this world where he should not exist, it is you and only you who will answer for his actions."_

"_Do you see anything of the future?"_

She nodded and her snakes nodded with her. _"There is fire and adversity then there is a light, bright and blinding. I see a moment in time where the past and future will collide. One day you will answer to the questions he will ask, and your answers will save the world or destroy it."_

"_And the muggles?"_

"_Eventually the mundane will pass from existence, this is certain. It will be up to you and your Prince to take magic into eternity." _

Medusa's body tensed and her tail ceased its rattling. The entirety of her tribe followed suit and soon the forest was silent and still. The snakes upon her head twisted this way and that, their forked tongues waving in the crisp air. The Gorgon Queen's head cocked to the side as she listened to their soft whispers.

"_Your servant approaches," _She hissed.

Voldemort gave her a confused look. _"None of my servants would be able to find me here. Do you know their scent?"_

"_Of course I would know her scent, she is half Naga."_

"_Nagini,"_ he stated in realization.

Slowly he extracted himself from the Gorgon's clutches. As he stood, his nudity was replaced by simple black robes. By the time Nagini entered the clearing, Voldemort stood clothed and calm next to the Gorgon Queen.

"_My Lord, the child has been taken!" _Nagini's hissing swept through the clearing and all of the Gorgons shifted nervously at her tone. _"I was chasing mice in the basement of our new nest when a spell hit me from behind and I fell to a deep sleep," _she explained.

"_Miss Craft?" _He questioned.

"_When I awoke she was missing and the boy with her."_

Voldemort closed his eyes and a jolt of power coursed through the forest, causing it to tremble and quake. Medusa hissed excitedly, entranced by the show of force. When the Dark Lord opened his eyes they glowed with fierceness and fury.

"_What would you have of me, My Lord?" _Medusa hissed.

"_Find the scent from the muggle weapon and we will find the child."_

"_Yes, we shall find your prince" _she nodded. She snapped her fingers and the rest of the tribe slithered off into the darkness. _"Would you like me to kill them?"_

"_No, they are mine. Come Nagini."_

Without another word, Nagini wrapped herself around the Dark Lord before he turned on his heel and apparated to the house in Hogsmeade. He stalked through the halls of the small house, casting spells and searching for any clues as to where Harry had been taken. He stopped in the sitting room and closed his eyes. A moment later the room began to fill with dark shapes as his inner circle of Death Eaters were summoned.

He scanned the masked faces, eyes alight with anger. "They have taken what is mine," he growled angrily. "Lucius."

Immediately the blonde hurried to the center of the group and dropped to his knees in front of his Lord. "Yes my Lord."

"The squib that was hired to watch over the boy was either taken or she is dead. I want you to find out what happened to her and I want her background thoroughly checked. If she had something to do with this, I want to know."

"My Lord," Lucius simpered. "I assure you that her background was checked before I hired-." His pleading was interrupted by cries of pain as Voldemort hit him with an extremely powerful Crucio.

"No excuses," Voldemort stated fiercely. "I want these people found using any means necessary."

"Of course My Lord," the group of Death Eaters answered in unison.

"I've been informed that one is muggle and one is magical," Voldemort explained. "I want them found and then I will make them pay." His skin nearly vibrated with power. "Go then and find them, but bring back the boy unharmed. Snape, you stay behind."

The Death Eaters disappeared one by one until Snape was the left alone with the Dark Lord and his familiar. Voldemort watched the sallow faced wizard curiously as he attempted to hold back his emotions. It was obvious that the man has very strong feelings for the boy, but a dark heart like Snape would never allow others to know.

"What would you suggest Snape?"

"My Lord?"

"How would you suggest we find them? Surely you have some ideas. You are the most resourceful of my Death Eaters. If you weren't, you would never have survived your little foray as a double agent."

Snape attempted to appear confused. "I have no idea what you are speaking of, My Lord. I have always been loyal to you."

Voldemort nodded. "Except when it was in your best interest to be the opposite. You are a true Slytherin and that is why I'm asking for your advice and your help. I could use a very heavy hand and destroy muggle after muggle in search of the boy, but I fear he would be dead by the time I stumbled upon the ones responsible."

Snape swallowed past a lump in his throat. "Perhaps a spell or a potion…" His voice trailed off as he the gears in his head began to turn. Voldemort could see the Potions Master searching through ideas and plans. Suddenly the man's black eyes lit up with excitement, though his stony expression did not change. "A demon," he stated. "Summon a demon to track down the boy. They travel easily through time and space; surely they would have no problem locating a child."


	23. Chapter 23

Voldemort let out a growl of frustration before throwing the cauldron across the room. It exploded against the wall, breaking into tiny pieces with the aid of his magic. Snape took refuge in the corner and waited for his Lord to calm.

"I do not know why they will not come, My Lord," stated Snape.

"I know why they will not come," Voldemort admitted while straightening his robes. "Only humans can summon demons to aid them and my status as a human is somewhat…questionable." Snape's eyes widened. "O come now Severus, you must know by now that I left my humanity behind long ago."

He picked up the large demonology book they'd been using for the past four hours. The pages were yellowed with age and the ancient tome would have fallen apart long ago if not for the charms placed upon its binding. Drawings of various demons leered up at him as he flipped through page after page. There had to be one that was different than the rest.

"Of course!" He exclaimed.

"My Lord?" Snape questioned.

Voldemort flipped back to the front of the book. "I must find a stronger demon, one that will not be afraid to materialize in my presence, one with whom I share a common bond. Ah, here we are." His eyes traveled quickly down the page before handing the book over to Snape. "We will need magical rings to protect you from his stench."

"Astaroth," Snape muttered under his breath. "This demon possesses the ability to discover all secrets and find hidden things. He can also give mortal beings power over serpents."

"Power over serpents," Voldemort repeated. He pulled Slytherin's ring from his finger and handed it to Snape. "Put this under your nose."

"But what will you use, My Lord?"

"I need nothing. I have no doubt that I am immune."

Snape gave him a doubtful look, but took the ring, holding it delicately between his fingers. He put it under his crooked nose and Voldemort would have found the image quite amusing in a less stressful situation.

"How can we call this Astaroth? Is there a ceremony we must perform?"

Just as Snape's words left him, a light, green mist began to seep in under the library door. Soon the mist was also filtering through the two large windows in the room. Voldemort smirked at the alarmed expression on his Potion Master's face. The mist began to fill the room and with it a horrid stench of rotting flesh and human filth. The smell was offensive, but nothing that bothered the Dark Lord.

"Do not remove that ring," he ordered. "You would be dead before expelling your first breath." Snape nodded and moved the ring closer to his nostrils. "Astaroth cannot be summoned. He appears only where and when he wishes."

Ominous laughter echoed through the library and Voldemort had to stop from flinching at the frightening sound. Snape shook visibly from fear. The sound was unlike anything the Dark Lord had ever heard before. Voldemort had summoned his share of demons in his youth. Each one had given him something while asking for a sacrifice in return. He had no idea what Astaroth would request, but if a human sacrifice was needed Voldemort would have no problem giving up Snape to the demon lord.

"You are causing a bit of chaos, aren't you? I have never met a human who was feared by demons. But you are not quite human, are you?"

In the mist an image began to form. It was a man riding atop a great four-legged beast. The beast was covered with shaggy, black fur that was long and stringy like human hair. Its yellow eyes appeared mournful and sad. The man sitting atop the beast was not as Voldemort expected and the Dark Lord wondered if the demon had the ability to change its appearance. Astaroth had bright, green eyes and a thick mane of black hair that fell down his pale, white back. A thick crown of thorns sat atop the demon's head and it was the only thing it wore. From its back sprouted a pair of black wings. Its face was undeniably modeled after Harry.

"Voldemort," the demon whispered, its eyes alight with mischief. A thick, swirl of black smoke escaped Astaroth as he spoke. "Why would a powerful being such as you need the help of a lowly demon such as me?"

Voldemort grinned. "I require your assistance finding something that has been taken from me."

"The boy," Astaroth laughed. "Have you lost him already? Tsk, tsk, Voldemort. Perhaps Death would be a better caretaker for the child."

Voldemort's magic flared. "I will destroy any who try to take what is mine, even Death."

Astaroth slipped from his mount, dropping to the floor on two perfectly shaped human feet. Besides his head, he was completely hairless. Voldemort found his eyes drifting down the demon's beautiful form and wasn't surprised to see that the thing had no bellybutton and no genitals. In place of a penis was a smooth plane of pale skin. With a wave of Astaroth's hand his mount disappeared into the mist. Voldemort looked to Snape and was surprised to see the man with his wand out.

"Put it away Severus," commanded Voldemort. "It will do you no good now."

"Is this one of your servants?" Astaroth questioned, his head tilting to the side. "Not much to look at, is he? I suppose beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

Voldemort gritted his teeth. "Tell me where to find the boy."

"Which boy? This boy?" The demon waved his hand a small figure appeared in the mist. It looked just like Harry and Voldemort found himself taking a step forward without thinking. "Or, this one?" Astaroth waved his hand again and the small figure grew until Voldemort was staring at the man from his dreams.

"He does not exist," Voldemort stated with sincerity. "Not yet."

"Or perhaps, this one?" This time when the demon waved its hand, the figure transformed into the skinny boy with the bloodshot eyes from the room in Dumbledore's office. A lightning-bolt shaped scar was seared into the boy's forehead and his green eyes glared at the Dark Lord with unbridled fury.

"How do you know about that?" Voldemort asked and the demon's grin widened.

"I know all Secrets."

Voldemort's magic finally lashed out and the demon fell to the floor. The thing laughed with glee as it quickly jumped to its feet. Its black wings wrapped protectively around its body as it continued to laugh.

"Give me what I want, or be gone foul demon."

The laughter stopped abruptly and Astaroth's eyes turned cold. "You forget who you are dealing with, my petty Lord. You may be immortal, but I have existed before time and creation." The demon's eyes flared for a moment and the room shook. "But I will give you what you desire, for a price."

"Of course, I expected this," admitted Voldemort. "What is your price?"

"Your prince is still merely a boy, but someday he will be a man. A luscious fruit, ripe for picking and that is what I desire." Astaroth ran a hand down the Dark Lord's cheek seductively and Voldemort had to wonder how the demon came to be standing so close. "I desire his virginity."

Voldemort's hand snapped up and grabbed the demon around the neck. "_Never_," he hissed in Parseltongue.

Astaroth chuckled. "I knew you would never agree, so I have a compromise. A kiss and only a kiss that is all I ask. It is mine whenever I decide to take it."

"A kiss on the lips and lips only," Voldemort clarified and the demon shrieked with laughter.

"Of course, My Lord, a kiss on his cheery lips, that is all I ask."

Voldemort nodded. "I accept, now tell me what I wish to know."

"The boy is being held in a very ancient and most noble house, a house of black."

Snape gasped. "Black! Sirius Black!" Snape didn't know that Sirius was a prisoner at Arthur Weasley's home.

"No, not Sirius," Voldemort stated. "Bellatrix."

"There you have what you desire, and soon I will have what I desire, our deal is done." Astaroth clapped his hands and a silvery string of magic stretched between them before disappearing with a snap, taking the demon with it. The mist hung in the air for a few more seconds and then it slowly disappeared.

Voldemort turned to Snape and held out his hand. "My ring, Severus." The ring dropped into his hand and he immediately returned it to his finger. "Go to Azkaban. I want to know what happened there."

"But Bellatrix is dead. She died in prison years ago."

"Someone must have switched the body."

Severus looked at the Dark Lord, his expression clouded with confusion. "But how do you know it isn't Sirius Black?"

"Do what I've ordered!" Voldemort commanded before turning on his heel to disapparate, a moment later he appeared in front of a decrepit looking home just outside of Ottery St. Catchpole.

**dSz**

"Rudy, Rudy took a whip and gave little Harry forty licks," a sickly sweet voice sang from a dark corner of Harry's dungeon cell. "And when Bella saw what he had done, she gave little Potter forty-one!"

The sound of leather snapping echoed through the dank room. Harry shut his eyes tight as the whip tore the skin on his back. His small hands gripped his throat, willing it not to hurt him as his magic attempted to heal his wounds.

"Aaaaah!" He screamed as the collar activated and his captures laughed in glee. Tears dripped down his cheeks to the dirty floor.

Suddenly a burning sensation ripped through his back and he pushed up until he was crouched on all fours. His back arched and his fingernails snapped as he clawed at the stone underneath his hands. In the distance he could hear a ripping sound, but had no idea what it was.

"What's wrong with 'im Bella?"

"He's having an attack, the poor dear. Go and get a pain potion." The woman crossed the room and crouched next to his head. "Poor, poor baby Potter. We have to make sure you last until our Lord gets here."

"He'll kill you," Harry ground out through his clenched jaw. "Voldemort will kill you for what you've done to me." Long fingers gripped his chin, pulling up until he was glaring into the woman's crazed eyes.

"He will thank me," she hissed angrily. "My Lord will thank me for what I've done. You've tried to ruin him, but when he sees the beautiful pain on your face, he will know that you are weak. You are weak!" She slapped him hard across the face, sending him sprawling across the cold floor.

Harry took deep breaths and closed his eyes, waiting for more pain. It never came though, instead the woman walked away, leaving Harry alone in the dark. As his ear lay pressed against the stone, he heard the ripping noise again and then a quiet hissing.

"_Hello?_" He questioned in Parseltongue.

"_Hello?_" Came the hissed reply.

Harry pressed his ear even tighter against the floor. "_Who are you?_" He questioned.

"_The Serpent King has sent me to find you_," the voice replied. "_What magic is this? I can hear you, but I cannot see you. Where are you?_"

"_I don't know,_" Harry cried. "_I'm in a dungeon inside a house I think, but I don't know where. There's a woman and a man, Bella and Rudy are what they call each other."_

"_I smell blood, have you been harmed?"_

"_Yes, but I'll be okay. Just tell Voldemort to hurry. They put a collar on me to steal my magic and…"_ His voice trailed off as pain tore through his body.

"_Harry," _the voice called tentatively.

"_Something's wrong," _he stammered. _"I feel like I'm burning. Something's burning me." _His eyes opened wide as he held up his hands. Fire licked over his fingers and down his arms. _"I'm on fire."_

Without a second thought he held his hands up to the collar around his neck, allowing the flames to consume the horrible thing. It fell from his neck in drips of molten metal. The flames continued to burn until his body was covered from head to toe. The fire expanded, engulfing anything and everything in its path.

"_Harry, it is too hot here, I must go. I will tell the Serpent King he must hurry."_

Harry barely registered what was said. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell to the floor. Fire continued to emanate from his small body as his skin blackened and fell away.

**dSz**

A Quidditch match appeared to be taking place in Arthur Weasley's backyard. Voldemort could see bright red hair reflecting the sunlight and knew that the brats on brooms were siblings. He'd seen two of the older boys before when they'd flown with Harry at Hogwarts.

He strode across the yard to the front door and gave it three strong knocks. The sound of a commotion beyond the door caught his ears and he was surprised when the door opened to reveal a small girl with a bright red ponytail. The tiny thing's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Who are you?"

"Lord Voldemort," he replied.

The girl's head cocked to the side for a moment before she turned and disappeared into the house. She returned a few seconds later dragging a large, motherly looking woman by the hand. He assumed this was the matriarch of the Weasley household.

"See mum, I told you it was him." The little girl pointed a stubby finger and Voldemort smirked as the girl's mother stammered and stuttered in confusion.

"My Lord," she greeted, wiping her hands on her apron. "I…what…um…my husband is at the Ministry."

Voldemort nodded. "I am aware of your husband's whereabouts. I'm here for the dog."

The woman's eyes widened and she shooed her daughter back into the house. She stepped out and closed the front door.

"He's back in the shed," she explained, gesturing toward the side of the house. She wrung her hands nervously. "He's been very good and hasn't changed back once."

Voldemort sneered and pushed past her toward the small, shabby building. He could hear the whine of the mutt before he even opened the door, as if the dog had sensed his arrival.

"Come out Black," he ordered as he swung open the door.

A large black dog sat huddled under one of the work tables in the shed. His eyes looked up at Voldemort with fright and the Dark Lord laughed.

"Accio dog," he sneered and the mutt was dragged across the floor by the force of the spell. Without any explanation he grabbed Black by the scruff of the neck and apparated, reappearing in front of Number 11, Grimmauld Place.

Voldemort shook the mutt once before releasing it to the ground. He covered the area with silencing spells and a strong Notice-Me-Not before flicking his wand forcing the unfortunate animagus into his human form. He delighted in the sound of Black's wailing as his bones, skin and joints were pulled apart and reassembled.

"Nice of you to join me Black," Voldemort sneered.

Black lay on the ground panting. "What are we doing here?"

"Get up," he ordered, giving the man a kick for good measure. Black rose slowly to his feet. "Harry has been taken by your insane cousin and now I need you to get me inside your ancestral home."

"What? Harry's been taken! How did it happen?"

"Never mind that," urged Voldemort. "Open your home to me so I can retrieve what is mine."

Suddenly a stabbing pain ripped through the Dark Lord's mind. He closed his eyes and when he reopened them, he was no longer standing outside Number 11, Grimmauld Place. Instead, he was lying inside a maelstrom of fire and destruction. A myriad of sounds reached his ears; there were screams, the snapping of wood, and the labored breathing of a child. He took a deep breath and once again he was standing outside.

"What in Merlin's name just happened?" Black questioned.

Voldemort didn't answer the man even though he knew what had happened. The Horcrux inside Harry had given him a direct way into the boy's mind. The boy was in a great amount of pain and his mind was reaching for help from the other piece of itself.

"I need to get in there now," Voldemort hissed impatiently. "There isn't a way that Bellatrix could have locked you out of the wards, is there?"

Black shook his head, his brow furrowed with worry and confusion. "Even if my family disowned me, I am still considered the rightful heir by the ancestral magic on the house." He brought his hand up to his mouth and bit down until he broke the skin. Blood dripped from his palm as he held it up to the invisible space between Number 11 and Number 13.

Immediately the two buildings began to slide apart and another building seemed to appear from nowhere. The place was engulfed in flames and smoke billowed from the windows.

"Harry!" Black shouted and lunged toward the front door. Voldemort grabbed the man by the back of the neck and pushed him to the ground.

"Stay," he commanded. "You'd be dead in an instant if you went in there. Remain here until I return. If you should decide to make your escape, I will track you down, torture you and kill you."

"Of course I'll stay," Black ground out angrily. "But for Harry, not because I'm afraid of you."

"Well, just in case you have other ideas." Voldemort's wand came down in a quick swish and Black was out cold. He floated the man into some bushes so he would be hidden from anyone passing by.

The fire did not cause him fear, even as he stared up at the gigantic flames towering toward the sky. Night was soon coming and the orange light cast an ominous glow on the clouds above Number 12. Voldemort cast a few spells on his skin, completely ignoring his clothes. They would eventually be destroyed by the flames and were not worth the effort.

He used a bit of silent, wandless magic to open the front door, doing his best to keep away from the burning walls of the house as he entered. It was surprising that the house was still standing. The magic imbued into Black's ancestral home must be very strong.

"Harry, where are you?" He questioned in a whisper and immediately the fire seemed to split, forming a path toward an open doorway.

It was the opening to the dungeons below. The extreme heat of the magical fire had melted the stone staircase until it was nothing more than a large gray lump on the dungeon floor. Voldemort floated down without incident and began searching the cells for his boy.

He found him in the last cell to the left. Harry lay in the middle of flames so red they were nearly the color of blood. The boy's skin was like a black shell and Voldemort nearly wept with relief when he saw the small, burnt chest rising and falling. The boy was alive.

"Harry!" He shouted as he blew open the door to the cell. The child was most likely past out from pain, but still he called the boy's name. "Harry!" He took the boy into his arms and cradled what was left. Almost instantly the fire began to die and Voldemort could feel the heat begin to dissipate.

Looking down at his own body, he could see that he did not make it through unscathed. His robes were completely gone and his skin was covered with large, red burns. He reached up and found his hair had burnt away to nothing, leaving him completely bald.

He scanned his boy for injuries and found…nothing. He waved his wand again and again there was nothing. It didn't make sense that Bellatrix would have the boy for days and not torture the child. Even the burns that Harry was obviously suffering were not found.

Cautiously he rubbed a finger across the boy's cheek. His eyes widened in surprise as the black shell covering the boy seemed to come away on his finger. He looked at his smudged finger suspiciously before repeating the process with the palm of his hand. Pale, white skin greeted him as he continued to clean the ash from the boy. When he was done, he merely stared at the boy's porcelain skin with awe.

"Harry," he called out softly, but the boy did not stir. He ran a hand over the boy's forehead, clearing away the last of the ash. His whole body stilled at what he found there.

A lightning-bolt glared up at him, a perfectly formed copy of the one he'd seen in that horrible room in Dumbledore's office. What it could mean, he did not know, but it filled him with a sense of dread unlike anything he'd felt before.

Deciding they should leave the retched House of Black before it fell down on their heads, he gently lifted the boy into his arms and floated up to the first floor. He headed upstairs to search for Bellatrix and her husband. Rudolphus he found in the library, or at least he found what was left of him. The man had burned to nothing. The skin and fat of his body had acted like a wick and now only a skeleton remained.

Whimpering could be heard down the hallway and Voldemort stopped in front of a door marked 'Sirius'. Inside he found Bellatrix Lestrange. She had her wand out and he imagined that her magic must have kept her relatively safe. In her arms she held a small bundle. As the Dark Lord ventured closer, she pressed it protectively to her chest.

"Why?" She questioned angrily. Her crazed eyes glared directly at the boy in Voldemort's arms. "Why him?"

"You wouldn't understand," the Dark Lord replied, feeling no anger for such a pathetic creature.

"Why him and not mine?" She asked and the he gave her a confused look. She held the small bundle up so he could see. "He was your son and you killed him, but you let that half-blood have his honored place."

Voldemort muttered a quiet 'Lumos' to give them light since the flames had completely died away. The small bundle was a mummified infant wrapped in blankets.

"Your son," he stated. "You dug him up after escaping from Azkaban."

"Our son!" She shrieked wildly. "He was our son, our boy! Think of how powerful he would have been had he been allowed to live, but you killed him."

Voldemort remembered the incident well. Bellatrix had been pregnant during the height of the war. He had explained to her that the Dark Lord could not afford to have a child. It would only be a target for his enemies. She had agreed and told him she'd taken a potion to kill the unborn baby. Later he had found out that she'd given birth and hidden the child away. He had hunted her down and killed the baby. Then, after the war was done, he'd thrown her in Azkaban to rot, too crazed to be allowed free in his new world.

"I had no need or use for an heir," he stated without emotion. "I ordered you to dispose of the child before it was even born and you disobeyed."

"He was my baby! How could you understand?" Her eyes narrowed and she pointed at Harry. "You couldn't, not until I took what was yours. I would take your son and destroy him."

Voldemort shook his head. "Harry Potter is not my son, he is the son of a man long dead, a man that I killed by my own hand. You cannot destroy him anymore than you can destroy me. You must be truly insane to have forgotten who you were dealing with."

"But why?" She asked the question again. "Why him? What is special about the boy? Does he hold some secret power? Was it the fire he can control? Why him?"

"He is powerful because I have made him that way," he explained. "This boy was nothing special, nothing great, but by my mere attention I have made him great. Who are you to get in the way of the greatness I have created? By my choice you are nothing, just as your son was nothing."

"What will you do with me?"

Voldemort sneered. "I will make you what you hate. Your wand will be broken, your features will be changed and you will be one of the horrible muggles that has been working to destroy our world. Your end will be meaningful, because I will make it so."

With a flick of his hand she was wrapped in chains and her wand flew to the floor. He summoned it and then broke it in half, finding particular satisfaction in the scream that escaped her as the wood snapped between his fingers. He banished her to the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, before sending a message to Malfoy through the Dark Mark. She was not to be touched until Voldemort was there.

Harry still slept peacefully in his arms and he reveled at the warmth of the boy's skin. He gripped the child tightly against his chest and resolved to never be over-confident again when it came to the boy's safety. By the look of the lightning bolt shaped scar on the boy's forehead, fate was conspiring to have her way, but Voldemort would not allow it to be so.

"He is mine," he reiterated aloud to the empty room.


	24. Chapter 24

The bathwater slowly turned dark red as bits of burnt skin and blood fell from Voldemort's body. He vanished the dirty water and continued to bathe while clutching Harry's small body to his chest. The pain he should be feeling was nonexistent, instead he felt a powerful sense of rage building from deep within what was left of his soul. The mirror above the sink cracked down the middle and the bathroom rug burst into a fine powder.

Voldemort had brought Harry back to the one place he knew was safe, his castle in the woods. Black had immediately been kenneled outside and the strongest wards he could cast were now covering the place. Even Malfoy and Snape would be locked out until Voldemort decided to allow them entrance.

Soft breaths beat against his shoulder as he carried Harry to his bed. He laid the boy down and covered his body with a black satin sheet. Harry continued to sleep, face a calm and serene mask. Voldemort marveled at that, wondering what the boy was dreaming, if he dreamed at all. The sound of flames crackling to life in the fireplace immediately caught his attention and within moments he was fully robed, wand in hand.

"Tsk, tsk, my dear, Dark Lord," a voice hissed from the shadows. "Is that any way to greet the one who helped you find your little lost boy?"

The shadows parted to reveal the demon Astaroth. The monster was grinning mischievously, its green eyes shining in a parody of Harry Potter's own. Voldemort took a step closer, attempting to shield Harry from view. The demon cackled loudly, its magic causing the fire to spit and sputter.

"Do you truly believe that you could protect him from me if I wanted to hurt your precious boy?" Astaroth questioned. Its black wings twitched to show its amusement at Voldemort's antics.

"Then what do you want? Why are you here?"

Astaroth silently moved toward the bed. Voldemort looked down at the things feet and wasn't surprised to notice that they never touched the ground.

"Stay away from him," he ground out, but the demon merely pushed him out of the way with a lazy sweep of his hand.

Voldemort was thrown halfway across the room. He attempted to struggle to his feet but was held down by an invisible force.

"My, what a beautiful boy you are," Astaroth purred as he leered down at Harry. Its large black wings arched upwards, the tips nearly brushing the ceiling. Voldemort could do nothing but watch as the demon ran a pale fingertip down the child's cheek. "Full of power and promise."

With a burst of wild magic the Dark Lord surged forward, knocking the demon back with invisible hands. His wand flared red hot in his hand as he shook with barely restrained fury. The demon was no longer grinning. Instead he glared at Voldemort, his eyes turning from green to red.

"I wondered when you would show your true power," Astaroth hissed. It pushed up from the floor until it was sitting with its legs crossed. "You'll need all and more for the days ahead."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "What have you seen?"

"Nothing you do not already know," the demon replied. It tapped its chin with a long, narrow fingernail. "But I wonder, what does the future hold for your precious little boy? A war is coming and only you will have the power to save that which is worth saving. Is Harry Potter worth saving?"

"Of course," he answered without thought.

"But that could be a problem for you," the demon hummed. "Or perhaps it will be a problem for the world. I haven't quite figured it out yet. It's difficult to see where you two are destined to be. The lines are all so blurry and incomplete. You surely muddled things more when you stuck a piece of your soul into his own." Astaroth cocked its head to the side, reminding Voldemort of a curious puppy.

"I ask you again, why are you here?" Voldemort questioned.

Astaroth ran his hands across the floor in a circular motion around its sides and in front of its bent legs. The Dark Lord was instantly reminded of Harry performing the same gesture on the sitting room rug as he sat in front of the fire. The demon grinned as if it knew what Voldemort was thinking.

"Just checking up on you two," it replied. Suddenly the tips of its wings pressed to the ground and pushed the demon up as if they were arms. "I was going to take my kiss now, but I think I'll wait until the boy is awake. I want to look into those bright, green eyes." Voldemort growled and a surge of magic pushed the demon's back into the wall. Astaroth laughed. "Remember my dear lord, you called me."

Voldemort's lips pulled back into a crazed sneer. "Perhaps I should banish you back to the underworld or perhaps I should banish you to an even darker place. I could lock your essence in an object and imprison you there until the end of time."

"The end of time," Astaroth repeated. "Such a short while for a demon such as I and for you as well." The demon pushed away from the wall and took a small step toward the Dark Lord. Its eyes returned to green and its features elongated until they appeared more elfin than human. "I find you and your boy amusing. To think you truly believe that fate had no hand in what's transpired? Why, it's downright ridiculous."

"I will not bend to fate," Voldemort argued in return. His anger was beginning to subside and replacing it was a small amount of fear at the demon's words. "I will never kill Harry and he will never kill me."

The demon strolled across the room and the Dark Lord tensed, preparing for an attack. But instead of coming near the boy, it moved to the fireplace. A pale hand reached into the flames, pulling and prodding them with long, thin fingers. Voldemort took a step toward the demon, suddenly curious at its strange behavior. The flames grew in Astaroth's hands until they formed a crude outline of a child.

"Your boy," Astaroth stated, motioning toward its creation. "He will burn over and over for eternity. This is what you have done to escape fate." The little fire boy sputtered and died away into ash before flaring back to life just as suddenly as he perished. "Never ending agony." The flaming child crumpled to the ground and disappeared. "O the tragic beauty you have created. Perhaps he will hate you for it, but then forgive you and then hate you again. He may go insane, perhaps become Behemot, destroyer of worlds."

Voldemort turned away from the monster and looked to Harry still asleep on the bed. The boy's small chest continued to rise and fall, no indication of the pain and suffering he had endured. His resolve was bolstered by the mere sight of the child, his Harry.

"No, Harry Potter is my creation," he stated assuredly. The demon laughed loudly and Harry's eyes twitched under their lids. Voldemort spun around, wand out. "Death, nor Fate, will ever touch him. The child is mine for all eternity and when he becomes a man, he will still belong at my side."

Astaroth offered an exaggerated bow. "How dramatic," it chuckled. "But words are not actions and the devil spins tales of joy as well as woe. I will leave you and your Harry Potter now, but eventually I will return to capture my kiss."

And just like that the demon was gone, a lingering scent of decay where he stood. Voldemort waved it away with a swish of his wand. The fire died and the room was cold and dark. A few candles flickered on the wall near the bed casting a dim, glowing light across Harry's green eyes.

"Harry," Voldemort whispered. He rushed to the boy's side. Harry's arms opened toward him and he immediately pulled the child into a tight embrace. "I'll never let anything happen to you again. You have my word."

Harry's small body stiffened in his arms. "No," the boy whispered angrily. "I don't want you to have to protect me, I want to protect myself."

"You can when you're grown, but you're still a child and," Voldemort started but Harry pulled away.

"Then teach me," he interrupted. "Teach me to fight, teach me to protect myself…teach me to kill."

Voldemort frowned as he gazed down at his boy. There was a new light in Harry's eyes, a sort of wildness that hadn't been there before. His small face was twisted into a strange expression and his hands were clenched into tight fists.

"I wanted to kill her," Harry explained.

"The woman and not the man?" He asked and Harry shook his head.

"The man hurt me, but the woman…" his voice trailed off and his expression darkened even further.

Voldemort took hold of Harry's chin and turned the child's face to meet his gaze. "What did she do to you?"

Harry's eyes squeezed shut as if he were remembering the ordeal. "She said I was weak. She said I make you weak. I don't want to do that. I want to be strong and powerful." He turned sweet, green eyes toward the Dark Lord's sly red. "Like you," he added.

"You are weak," Voldemort stated bluntly, not at all affected by the hurt in the child's eyes. "But you will grow strong with time, just as I grew strong with time. The woman was wrong about one thing. You do not make me weak. Nothing in this world can make me weak. And one day you will add your power to mine to make me stronger than I've ever been."

**dSz**

A crowd of wizards and witches spanned across the Quidditch stadium of Hogwarts, filling the field and stands with a buzz of excitement mixed with anxiety. All attention fell to Voldemort as he walked out on the raised stage to address the large crowd. A hush fell over them all as his red eyes scanned them one by one.

"I thank you for being here today," he began. "I'm sure you have all heard the news that Harry Potter has been found and the people responsible for his kidnapping have been captured."

The stadium filled with sound as the gathered wizards and witches applauded and cheered. Voldemort allowed their celebration to continue for a few minutes before clearing his throat.

"Yes, it is wonderful that Harry Potter is back with us, healthy and happy, but I mourn for all of the pureblood children who were murdered by these horrible criminals," he stated and the people fell silent once more. "For many years I have done my best to keep us safe from the dangers of the muggle world. I have attempted to put laws in place that keep the muggle threat far from our doorstep, but at the same time give wizards and witches the freedom to choose where to live, where to shop and who to befriend."

"But I fear the time is coming when these measures will no longer be enough. These two horrible muggles infiltrated our world and killed our children. Do I think all muggles should be punished for their crimes? The answer is no. But I do think that it is our duty to be even more vigilant against the threat that muggles pose."

Voldemort paused to let the crowd digest his words. Many faces looked angry, while a few appeared afraid.

"I have kept an eye on the muggle world, hoping against hope that they would eventually become more civilized. I assumed that after the horror of past wars they would eventually decide to live peacefully. Instead they continue to kill each other and create weapons of mass destruction, horrible things that can destroy whole cities in mere seconds."

Now the crowd was looking angrier and more afraid. Soon he would have them right where he wanted them.

"I do not propose a war against muggles," he stated assuredly and more than a few people look surprised at this. "But I do propose that we bolster our defenses against the muggle threat. Tomorrow the Daily Prophet and various other newspapers will publish my plan of action which will include defense pacts with other magical governments including France, Germany, and even the United States. Together I believe we can keep our children, ourselves and our future safe. Now I have only one thing to ask from you and that is your support. Who will help me make a better future?"

Instantaneously shouts began rising from the crowd.

"I will!"

"I'm on your side. We've got to keep out those muggles!"

"I'll help!"

"You've got my support!"

Soon it all began to meld together into one giant roar of affirmation. Voldemort stepped around the podium and beamed at the crowd. He stooped down to shake a few hands causing the crowd to surge forward. Suddenly he was reminded of Dumbledore and his grin grew even larger. The old man may have been on the wrong side, but he knew how to control people without lifting a finger. Earn their trust and devotion and they'll do anything you ask, even kill their neighbor.


	25. Chapter 25

Headmaster Snape surveyed the unruly students as they gallivanted through Hogsmeade. They remained as they'd always been, full of laughter and curiosity. More than a few things had changed quite dramatically in the many years since the shift in the Dark Lord's plans for the wizarding world. The changes had been subtle at first, things shifting so slowly that most people did not notice.

Fliers for the Magical Defense Militia were scattered upon shop walls. Aurors stalked the streets, keeping a sharp eye on the wandering children. Magical children were considered to be extremely precious and so much more important whether muggle-born, half-blood or pure. The bookstores stocked dozens of periodicals dealing with fertility and family planning. Voldemort smiled up from the pages of the Daily Prophet, giving interviews nearly every month, keeping the wizarding world abreast of the Ministry's new agreements with surrounding nations.

The world had changed and yet no one seemed to notice.

"Good Morning Headmaster!" A cheery voice greeted from the across the street.

Severus turned to see Madam Rosmerta smiling in his direction. "Good Morning to you as well," he replied stoically and Rosmerta chuckled.

"C'mon in for a pint. I'm sure the little snappers can look after themselves. It'll warm you up."

"Perhaps another day," he replied. She waved him off with a laugh and then headed back into the Three Broomsticks.

A shop had opened nearly a year ago across from the Broomsticks. It was a coffee shop and bakery owned by Ted and Andromeda Tonks. Severus liked to stop in every so often for tea. Ted was usually not around, leaving Andromeda to manage things. Each day she appeared more harried and anxious, but would never reveal the source of her worry.

The sign in the window said closed, which was very odd for a Hogsmeade weekend. Most shops depend on these weekends for the bulk of their winter sales. Severus paused for only a moment before trying the door. It opened easily and he slipped inside.

"Andromeda?" He questioned, quietly at first and then louder. "Andromeda!"

Severus glanced around and noticed the place was in a shambles. Chairs and tables sat covered in dirty dishes and grime. At the counter the cash register was open and empty. He rushed toward the staircase leading to the upstairs apartment and nearly ran headlong into Andromeda as she descended from above.

"Severus!" She exclaimed. A large travelling bag fell from her left hand and the trunk floating behind her bounced against the steps.

"What is going on here?" He questioned. "You never said anything about traveling this winter."

Andromeda swallowed thickly. "Yes, well, it was a spur of the moment type of thing. Ted and I decided to leave the cold and snow for Cuba."

"Cuba?" Severus questioned, eyeing her with suspicion. The very idea that Andromeda would pick up and leave her beloved store to go to some far off country was just too far-fetched. "And where is Ted? Shouldn't he be helping you with those bags? And what of Nymphadora, I don't remember her mentioning anything about a trip to Cuba?"

Her eyes glanced wildly from left to right. "He's already gone ahead. I'm going to meet him there actually so I best get going." She moved to step around him, but his hand snapped out to grab her forearm.

"Andromeda, what in Merlin's name is going on here?"

That was all it took. The normally stoic woman burst into tears and nearly fell into Severus' arms. She grasped at his robes for dear life.

"You have to help me Severus. Ted left, he's gone to join the rebels. He wants me to go into hiding with him but I can't just leave Dora. What will happen to her once we're gone? What will He do to her?"

There was no question who she was talking about when she said 'He'. The Dark Lord would be furious. Andromeda was a Black and the idea of a Black defecting was unthinkable. Their daughter would be used against them, that much was certain.

"Calm down," Severus commanded the distraught witch. "Sit." He pointed at a chair and she sat without complaint. "Now, I will tell you what you will do. You will take your bag and go to your sister Narcissa. You will not mention that we had this conversation. Instead you will tell her about Ted leaving you and joining the rebels. She will, of course, inform Lucius who will then inform the Dark Lord. I have no doubt he will be interested in your story, it will make wonderful propaganda against the rebels."

Well-manicured fingers flew to Andromeda's thin lips. "O no!" She gasped. "But then everyone will know. The Aurors will be after Ted. I love him Severus, he is still my husband."

"And Nymphadora is your daughter," Severus ground out angrily. "She needs her mother, even more now that her father has abandoned you both."

Andromeda nodded in agreement. "You're right of course." With a long, shuddering breath, she regained her composure. "Thank you Severus, please look after Dora for me. I worry that Ted will seek to abduct her if he has the chance."

"I will look after her as I look after all the children in my care," he replied calmly.

The abduction of a student years ago still sat heavy in his mind. He hated to think back to that horrible day and the frantic search. The Dark Lord announced that her body had been found, but privately told Severus later that a search of what was left of Number 12 Grimmauld Place turned up nothing. Perhaps they'd never know what happened to Margaret Benson, the girl with the golden curls.

**dSz**

Leaves crackled and branches snapped as Voldemort strode confidently through the bright forest. He'd come to visit the Gorgons and to retrieve something that they currently possessed but which belonged to him. A hissing sound caught his attention and he paused. The Gorgons wanted to play.

Voldemort pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am in no mood for these games."

A chuckle echoed through the clearing and the Dark Lord fought the urge to reach for his wand. He knew he was in no real danger.

"So, you've come for what you believe is yours, but is it yours?" Medusa questioned as she slithered across the brown grass and dead leaves.

"I don't have time for this tonight. Where is the child?"

Medusa's eyes sparkled with mischief. "It is a bright, beautiful day, is it not? Where else would a snake be, but basking in the warmth of the sun's wonderful rays. The best rocks are at the river. I believe you'll find your Prince there."

Voldemort turned on his heel and strode quickly toward the river bank. It wasn't very far away, so he was there in only a few minutes. The sight that greeted him was not unfamiliar, but the hedonism of it still managed to shock the small part of Voldemort which clung to old-fashioned, pureblooded beliefs.

Harry had changed much over the years. The holly wand worked after he'd been given a piece of the Dark Lord's soul and magic came easy to the young boy. Dark spells rolled off Harry's tongue with ease, which pleased Voldemort greatly. Other changes were not so pleasing.

Since Harry's kidnapping he'd formed a distrust of not only muggles, but wizards and witches as well. There were a few exceptions to the rule. Severus Snape was still a welcome companion and he showed great respect to Lucius Malfoy, most likely due to the trust and respect the Dark Lord showed his second in command. All others were not to be trusted. Harry began spending more and more of his time with dark creatures, preferring the company of gorgons, vampires and werewolves to human interaction.

Voldemort's stories of the gorgons had captivated the boy, to the point of finding a ritual to grant Harry the ability to resist their power to turn humans to stone. Of course the ritual had been practiced first on a poor, unfortunate wizard prisoner. It had been a success and the man hadn't turned to stone, but the ritual did not save him from being torn apart by Medusa and her kin.

Harry had been introduced to Medusa and instantly the gorgon queen was enamored with the young Parselmouth. The boy was accepted with ease and soon spent many days gallivanting through the forest with the gorgons while Voldemort worked at the Ministry. Not that the Dark Lord was always so approving of the boy's activities while among the snake women.

"Voldemort," Harry called out as the Dark Lord approached.

The gorgons lay sunning themselves on the rocks by the river's edge. Harry lay naked among them, his bronzed skin glinting in the sunlight, black hair messy and wild. The boy's glasses were missing, having been discarded with his clothing.

Voldemort stood stonily as the child untangled himself from the slithering mass of creatures. Harry ran to him naked, appearing by all accounts as if he was a child who had been abandoned to be raised by forest creatures. Harry must have noticed his slight look of disapproval because a moment later the boy's robes magically appeared along with his glasses.

"Harry, why must you always be naked when I come to get you?" Voldemort asked.

The boy bit his lip nervously. "I like lying out in the sun. And what difference does it make, they're all naked." He gestured toward the group of gorgons watching from the rocks.

It was impossible to tell the ages of the snake women, since they all appeared as nearly exact copies of their queen. Each one had a snake tail, but from the hips and above they were definitely human in appearance with taunt stomachs and large breasts. Voldemort sneered in their direction causing them all to look away quickly.

"You are nearly eleven years old, much too old to be rolling around naked with a group of naked women."

Harry gave him a quizzical look. "Why?" He questioned.

"You just are," Voldemort huffed. "Now we must be going. You wouldn't want to miss out on your birthday surprise, would you?"

Harry grinned. "Of course not. What is it? Is it a Thestral? I've been reading about them and would love to try a ride on one."

Voldemort shook his head. "You'll just have to wait and find out, won't you. Now grab my arm."

The boy glanced back at the gorgons and offered a small wave good-bye.

"_Good-bye young Prince,"_ the gorgons called out in unison. _"Happy hatching day!"_

"_Thank you"_, Harry replied politely. He grasped Voldemort's arm without hesitation and they both disapparated with a soft pop.

**dSz**

A cold spray of water hit Harry's face as they appeared at the mystery location. Harry wiped the water from his eyes and ran a hand through his now damp hair. His green eyes widened in awe as he looked up at the tall building in the distance. It was a dark, stone structure standing alone on a small, desolate island. Dark shapes swooped around the place, adding to its dark and frightening appearance.

"Azkaban," Harry whispered softly.

"Azkaban Prison," Voldemort announced, obviously not hearing Harry over the roar of the waves. "Home to the Dementors."

Harry was vibrating with excitement. Dementors had always held a special interest for him ever since he was a small child. Little was known of the creatures. Even the Department of Mysteries knew next to nothing of how they were created.

Voldemort was grinning down at him and Harry offered him a wide smile. "Can we go closer?" He asked and the Dark Lord laughed.

"Of course we can go closer, that's why we are here. I seem to recall a little boy who once asked me about the possibility of speaking to a Dementor."

"You remembered!" Harry exclaimed in surprise. So much had happened since then that he couldn't believe Voldemort recalled that particular conversation, it was so long ago. He was so overcome that he couldn't help but wrap his arms around the Dark Lord's middle in a tight hug. Voldemort ran long fingers through Harry's messy hair, causing the boy to sigh.

"Come along then, we don't want to miss our boat." Voldemort gestured toward a small brown boat bobbing in the surf.

The trip to the island seemed to take forever even though only a few minutes passed. Harry could hardly contain his excitement causing his whole body to shake and twitch. Voldemort finally grabbed him, holding him still so the boat wouldn't overturn before they got there.

A cold chill settled over Harry as a few Dementors swooped toward the boat. They seemed to be curious about the newcomers, but afraid to come too close. Harry looked up at the Dark Lord and was surprised to see his red eyes wary and alert.

"They won't attack us, will they?" Harry questioned, growing slightly anxious.

Voldemort shook his head. "They wouldn't dare. They are merely curious about our arrival. I have not visited the wizard prison in many years. Perhaps they think I'm bringing a particularly nasty criminal for them to feed on." Harry shivered in Voldemort's arms and the Dark Lord chuckled softly. "Don't worry Harry; you're always safe with me."

Except when I'm not, Harry added in his mind. It was a bitter thought that came to the front of his mind whenever the Dark Lord made these types of comments. A part of him still held onto his anger over his capture and torture at the hands of Voldemort's former supporters. Harry tried to push it away, but it was always there, buried in the back of his mind even after so many years.

Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who had tortured and belittled him to the point of near defeat. She'd broken out of Azkban with the help of her magic less husband. To this day no one, not even the Dark Lord, had figured out exactly how he'd orchestrated the great escape.

The boat jerked suddenly as it hit a small wooden dock. Harry's head fell back and his eyes widened as he took in the grim sight of Azkaban. The building was tall and it appeared to be in a state of advanced deterioration. If reminded him a corpse rotting in the cold, dank spray of the salty sea.

"Come," Voldemort urged as he glided down the dock to the entrance of the wizard's prison. Harry hurried along behind, one hand in his robes clutching his wand.

A guard nodded to them as they walked through the doorway. Voldemort didn't even acknowledge the man's presence as his strode on down the corridor.

"Where are we going?" Harry questioned.

"Down," replied Voldemort.

After descending down a flight of crumbling stone steps, they came to a stop outside a large metal door. Strange sounds came from within and Harry found his hand unconsciously reaching for the large dead bolt holding the door closed. Surprisingly Voldemort did not try to stop him and the door flew open with a loud crash. Harry's breath whooshed out of him as if someone had punched him in the gut.

Pale arms slowly wrapped around Harry's chest and warm air ghosted over his neck. He shivered in the Dark Lord's embrace.

"This is the second part of your birthday present Harry," the Dark Lord whispered darkly. "Do with it what you wish."

Bellatrix Lestrange kneeled prostrate before him, her arms chained down at her sides and her forehead resting on the ground. A small keening noise escaped her at odd intervals, reminding Harry of a wounded animal. Harry's hand trembled as he slowly pulled his wand from his robes. A million thoughts ran through his mind and his body slackened in Voldemort's tight embrace.

"You know the spell Harry," he whispered, splaying a hand across Harry's chest.

For a moment Harry wondered if the Dark Lord was casting some sort of spell. Surely any moment Harry's heart would burst from his chest to be held by the older wizard's long, pale fingers. He imagined it pulsing in the man's hand as the Dark Lord punctured it with sharp fingernails. Harry's head drooped to one shoulder, suddenly tired and exhilarated all at the same time.

Goosebumps formed across Harry's shoulder, following Voldemort's fingers as they slowly made their way down to Harry's hand, the hand where his wand lay. Harry felt his hand rise to point at the woman chained to the floor. Bellatrix Lestrange, ruler of his nightmares and fears. Would they all be wiped away with the obliteration of this phantom? His hand stopped shaking as Voldemort moved to hold his wrist.

"Give your hatred a purpose Harry. Use it against this unworthy witch. Unworthy of magic, unworthy of life, unworthy of your mercy."

"Crucio," Harry hissed and he felt Voldemort jerk in surprise, but the man did not move away. Harry knew the older wizard expected him to use the killing curse. "Crucio," he whispered again. The witch screamed and her body jerked. Harry didn't want her dead, he wanted her to suffer.

Suddenly he felt heat rise up from his magical core. It was a familiar heat that he knew to be a precursor to another painful seizure. "Crucio," he shouted. "Crucio!" A thick liquid fell upon Bellatrix, bursting into bright orange flames as it hit the woman's skin. Her body burned until only a pile of dark, black ash remained.

A guttural roar fought its way from the deepest part of Harry's small body. The rage within him was still there, burning like wood soaked in kerosene. His eyes shifted around wildly in an attempt to find anything or anyone to take the brunt of his anger.

"Harry," a strong voice called out. "She has been destroyed."

"NO!" He screamed, pushing away from the Dark Lord. Harry fell to his knees in front of the woman's remains. "I need…I need…I need…"

"She's gone."

"Aaaaa!" Harry screamed once more before pounding into the pile of ash with his fists. "I need more!"

Voldemort merely nodded calmly before turning to leave the room. A moment later the door opened and a woman fell through the doorway. She pushed up from the floor, looking around wildly.

"What is this? What's going on?" Her voice was unfamiliar, but her face was one in the same with the woman Harry had just killed.

"Bellatrix," he growled, leveling his wand at the frantic woman's chest.

"No," she shook her head. "I'm not her. I swear I'm not her."

"Crucio," he screamed. "Crucio." The spell came to him faster now and each one carried the flames of his anger. The woman was gone quickly, reduced to ashes as the real Bellatrix Lestrange had been. He took a deep breath and laughed.


End file.
